


Growing Pains

by MissSlothy



Series: Puppy Love [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: Security Consultant Lt Cmdr Steve McGarrett and HPD Detective Danny Williams have been in a relationship for a year. It’s not always been an easy time for them: the last few months in particular have been rough. Steve’s still struggling with the injuries he suffered during his service in Afghanistan. Danny’s struggling to understand how he can help.With their first anniversary looming Steve decides it’s time to get over the growing pains in their relationship and plans a trip away. However, things don’t go as planned for Steve, Danny and their dog Max when someone from Steve’s past makes a reappearance.This is a follow up to ‘Puppy Love’ but can be read as a standalone story.  Written for H50 Big Bang 2018.  Rated M for chapter 3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatwasJustaDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/gifts).



> This was written for the H50 Big Bang 2018 and the fantastic artwork is by ThatwasJustaDream (on AO3). I'm thrilled she volunteered to do the artwork - she's captured the story so well.
> 
> The beta was by Imaginary_Iby who was brilliant. Her suggestions were great (as always) and I'm so grateful for her time. Any remaining errors are all mine!
> 
> This story was written for the H50 Big Bang 2018 - go and check out all the other stories and artwork that will be posted this week, lots of lovely stuff out there!

h50h50h50h

“I had plans for us tonight, Steven.  Big plans.  Dinner, I was gonna make us dinner.   Lasagne, that recipe you got from my Mom, maybe we’d watch a game on the TV.  And then I was gonna…I was…”  Danny stutters as his breath runs out.  He’s running on empty and it’s taking all his remaining energy to get air in.  “This isn’t the kinda bed I wanted to spend the evening in, babe,” he whispers, his voice breaking.  He squeezes the limp hand he’s holding, trying to find comfort in the familiar touch of the calloused fingers.  “It really isn’t.”

Danny exhales and runs his free hand across his face.  His palm scrapes across a day’s worth of bearded scruff.  In front of him Steve’s lying unconscious in a hospital bed.  _He’s asleep,_ Danny corrects himself, although the difference is difficult to tell.  His body’s exhausted, the doctor had explained when Danny had voiced his concern.  It’s not unusual after such a severe respiratory incident.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Danny’s not expecting an answer but he studies Steve’s face anyway.  Steve sleeps on oblivious, his chest rising and falling in time with his shallow breaths.  The sound of his breathing is magnified by the sound of air being drawn through the canula under his nose. Steve’s lips are pink now, not blue: the obvious improvement sucks the tension from Danny’s shoulders.  His body sags in the chair, his back curving like an old man’s.

_It’s lucky you found him when you did, Mr Williams._

Danny braces himself against the bed, reaching out his free hand.  He’s careful not to jostle Steve’s body, he’s only too aware of the bruises hidden under the blankets and the pale blue hospital gown.  The bruise on Steve’s temple, the one that started this chain of events, is turning yellow already.  It’s been four days since this started.  It feels like so much longer.

A knock on the door pulls him back to the present.  Danny twists round to look over his shoulder.  His back protests, he’s been sitting in the chair for hours.  A nurse is standing in the doorway, a tray in her hand. 

“I just need to check on Steve.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” he replies, even though he knows she’s not actually asking his permission.  Danny watches as she carries out her checks, reading her face for any reaction.  “He hasn’t woken up yet but that’s okay, right?  The doctor said that’s okay.”

Her answering smile is sympathetic.  “That’s good.  He’s probably going to sleep for hours.  If he wakes it’ll only be for a short while.  It’s the body’s way of recharging.  The pain relief he’s been prescribed for the chest pain will make him groggy as well.”  She checks the machines and writes down notes on Steve’s file.  “I’ll be here for a while if you want to grab something to eat or a hot drink.  The food’s not bad but I can’t say the same for the coffee.”

“I’m good.”  Danny waves her concern away.  “And I’m used to bad coffee.  I’m a cop,” he explains.  “HPD Detective.  Drinking bad coffee is an occupational hazard.”

Her face lights up with comprehension.  “We wondered…” she tails off, nodding at the empty holster on his hip.“

“Oh.”  He looks down.  He’d forgotten he was wearing it.  “I just got home from work when…when I found him.”  Danny swallows against the words, pushes back the images looming at the edge of his mind.  “Steve’s my boyfriend,” he explains, grabbing the hand in his tighter, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.  “The doofus calls us partners but people get kinda confused and…”  He’s relieved when the nurse nods again, her smile turning soft.  He’s rambling, he knows he’s rambling.  But he’s so goddamn tired.

“Steve was in the Navy?”

Danny’s confused until he realises the information must be in Steve’s medical record.  “Yeah.  He was.  Navy SEAL.”  He takes a deep breath and strokes Steve hand again, putting all the pride and love he feels into the touch.  “He’s got he’s own company now.  He’s a security consultant.”

She nods, a short, sharp sign of respect.  He watches as she puts gloves on, preparing to take a blood sample.  Steve mumbles as she fiddles with the lines that snake down into his arm, his eyes still closed.  Danny hushes him, keeping his touches light.

“He hasn’t been sleeping much,” he explains, straightening Steve’s blanket, even though he knows it’s fine.  “He’s got bruising on his ribs.  He told me that’s why he wasn’t breathing right.”  _I was an idiot.  I should have called him on it._ “And the cough, you know?  He gets a cough sometimes, he’s got medication…”

“Pneumonia does initially present as a cold in many cases.”  The nurse has paused, her expression sympathetic.  “In a case like Steve’s, where the patient has a pre-existing condition, the symptoms can escalate quickly.”

 _He didn’t tell me that.  He didn’t_ fucking _tell me that._  

“With rest and the right medication, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be on his feet again in the next few days.  He probably won’t be up to any strenuous work for a while, maybe even a few months.”

 _You don’t know, Steve._   _The stubborn idiot still thinks he’s indestructible._ “That’s good.  That’s good to know.”

Danny rubs his eyes and slumps back in his chair.  His legs are twitching, itching to move despite his exhaustion.  He needs to be doing something but there’s nothing to do but sit and wait.  He’s spoken to Billy, Steve’s second-in-command.  Chin’s smoothing things over with the Captain: not for the first time he’s grateful that his partner at HPD is a natural diplomat. 

What he really wants to do is climb up on the bed and pull Steve close.  He wants to tell him that he loves him and _can we please, please, please not do this again._ Instead, he gets his wallet out his pocket and retrieves the picture he keeps in there.  It’s of the four of them taken at the beach.  He runs his thumb over the image, swallowing down the lump in his throat.”

“Is that your family?”

The nurse is on his side of the bed: he’s so out of it he hadn’t noticed her move.  Danny smiles at the picture, remembering the moment it was taken.  “This is my daughter Grace,” he says proudly, pointing her out even though it’s clear who she is in the picture.  “She lives with my ex-wife, Rachel.  She’s nearly nine, going on thirty.”  That earns him a laugh.  “The dog, his name is Max.  He’s a German Shepherd, ex-military K9, served in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Steve adopted him after they were both injured in the same terrorist chemical attack,” he confirms, reading the question in her eyes.   “Grace insists on calling Max her puppy which is funny ‘cause the big lug weighs at least seventy pounds.”

“Wow.”  The nurse raises her eyebrows at the picture – Max is sitting front and centre, the camera angle making him loom over the rest of them sitting behind.  Steve’s hand is resting on Max’s shoulder, his fingers tangled in his tan and black fur.  “Looks like they’re very close.”

“They are.”  Danny absently rubs the picture again, his attention on Steve.  Steve’s told him about the attack in Afghanistan.  But in the year they’ve been together that’s all he’s really found about Steve’s time in the SEAL teams.  It’s like he’s taken the Navy and packed it away, mentally.  Max and Billy are the only real links he has left.

Danny shoves the photo back in his wallet.  Steve might think the Navy’s done with him (not that he’d ever say those words) but the values of protect, serve and honour are imprinted on his DNA.  Danny gets that: he’s been a cop for nearly twenty years and he doesn’t just do it for the pay.  But Steve’s values keep putting him in harm’s way.  Back in the Navy that hadn’t been a problem – now his body is struggling to keep up.

Danny pushes up from the chair and paces over to the window. Words are bubbling up inside in, fueled by the frustration that he’s been bottling up for days. But the person he needs to share with - Steve - is in no condition to hear it. And the only other person in the room is just doing her job.

Danny turns and finds himself being watched by worried eyes. “It’s been a long day,” he hears himself apologise. He’s not sure what the hell he’s apologising for. For the last four days it feels like that’s all he’s done.

 _I’m sorry too, babe.  I love you.  Please don’t leave me here_.

The memory from just a few hours before takes Danny’s breath away. It’s so vivid he can feel Steve’s motionless body in his arms. The nurse looks over at him with concern. Talking to the doctors, worrying about Steve, has allowed him to blank out what had happened. Now the panic’s building again.

Danny strides back to the bed and leans down to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Gonna call Grace,” he whispers urgently. “And I’ll check on Max, okay?”

Danny’s out of the door before the nurse can say anything: Steve’s lack of response is feeding his panic way too much to hang around. Striding down the corridor he finds the stairs and takes them two at a time. He’s breathing hard by the time he gets outside the hospital, his fists clenched hard against his sides.

It’s several minutes before Danny feels able to dial Rachel’s number.  Cold sweat is making his shirt stick to his back, he shivers as he finds a seat in the shade. 

“How is he?”  Rachel’s always been very good at cutting to the chase. 

“They’re still running tests but they think it’s pneumonia,” he explains around a tired sigh.

“Ah.”  Rachel goes quiet.  Danny can imagine the frown on her face.  “Has this got anything to do with the other day?  When he ended up in the canal?”

Danny nods, catches himself as he realises she can’t see him.  “They think maybe he got water in his lungs.”  There’s so much he wants to add, so many words crowding in his head but he’s too tired to string the thoughts together.  “How’s Max?”

Danny can hear the clink of glasses and plates in the background, it sounds like Rachel’s preparing dinner.  He takes the phone away from his ear for a second: it feels like he’s being teased with something he can’t have right now. 

“He’s helping Grace with her homework.”

Danny’s brain trips over her words.  “You let Max in Grace’s bedroom?”

Rachel’s not really a dog person.  And her house is impossibly neat.  “He was anxious.” She sounds mildly defensive.  “We all are,” she adds.

Danny swallows hard against a sudden rush of emotion.  Despite all the history between them Rachel still has the ability to surprise the hell out of him.

"Grace wanted to know if she could talk to Steve."

"He's still asleep.  The drugs they've given him—"

"She'd settle for seeing you instead."

Danny runs his hand over his hair, his heart warring with the panic bubbling under his skin.  Rachel's waiting for an answer, in the background he can hear running water and a cupboard opening and closing.  "I need to get back to the house,” he insists, grabbing at the first excuse he can think of.  “I wanna get the place straightened out before they let Steve out.  We had to get out of there in a hurry and I didn’t get a chance…” 

A memory flashes in his mind and it cuts him off mid-sentence: it’s Steve’s eyes filled with panic and fear.  He shuts his own eyes but the image is still there in the darkness, so vivid and painful. 

“You don’t need to worry about the house.  It’s okay.  I checked when we collected Max.”

Danny takes a shuddering breath, then another, but it’s not enough to stop the raw emotions he’s been holding onto for days bursting out in a torrent of gabbled words.  “The stubborn bastard kept saying he was fine, Rachel.  He kept saying he was _alright_.  I told him he needed a doctor but he thinks he’s still—"

The clattering noise stops abruptly, cutting Danny short.  "You're angry with him."

"I tried, okay.  I tried to make him go but he wouldn’t listen and now—"

"Danny..."

“He could have died and I—“

“Danny…”

“He should have waited for backup.  If he'd waited for Billy or HPD then this wouldn't have happened—"

"You don't know that."

"I keep telling him he should be more careful.  There’s procedures and rules and he’s not a goddamn police officer but he could follow them.  He could follow ‘em, Rach.  He could follow them and he’d be safer.  But no, not Captain America.  He jumps in like he's invincible, like he doesn't...like he doesn't care about _us_."  Danny’s mouth shuts with a click.  He feels like he’s gonna be sick.  "Damn.  _Damn it_.  I didn't mean that...I just wish—"

"You used to say you were just doing your job, Danny."

Rachel’s tone is calm, almost factual but her words are sharp as a knife.  Another wave of guilt grabs at his guts.  "He's not in the Navy anymore.  And he can't...he's got..." Danny realises he's rubbing his chest, right where Steve’s scars would be from the chemical attack. Words are failing him again, crowded out by the emotions whirling in his head.

"You can't change who someone is.  I recall you saying that to me as well."

Danny tucks the phone under his chin and scrubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands.  He doesn't want to change Steve.  He _doesn’t_.  He just wants him to stay _safe_.

He can remember Rachel saying that to him as well.

The clattering of the plates stops again.  It's replaced by the sound of Rachel's footsteps: they echo as she walks out of the kitchen and into the hallway.  "Grace!  Grace!  I need you to lay the table.  And put an extra place out for your Dad."

Danny presses the phone closer to his ear.  There's the sound of small feet and paws thundering down the stairs, accompanied by excited chatter and barking.  He wants to be there _so_ much.

"Rach.  I can't.  I just need to..."

"Daniel.  I know that right now all you want to do is crawl into a corner and bawl your eyes out.  Believe me, I know.  But Steve would never forgive me if I let you go back to that empty house alone.  So go back in there and tell him how much you love him.  And then get your backside over here."

H50H50H50H50

**Four days earlier**

Danny stretches, letting his body sag into the mattress.  It’s the first time for a fortnight that he’s slept for eight hours straight in an actual bed.  His body’s aching, weeks of hard work lingering in his muscles.  But he’s not due back at work until midday and right now that seems like forever.

He’d got home at midnight, so tired he could barely get his key in the door.  On automatic pilot he’d bribed Max with Milk-Bones to keep him quiet then detoured to the bathroom just long enough to brush his teeth.  Getting into bed is a vague memory – his clothes are sprawled over the bedroom floor – but what he does remember is Steve sleepily shuffling across the bed, curling his back into Danny’s chest like a human comforter.

During the night Steve’s turned back over; his arm’s draped over Danny’s hips, his fingers splayed across Danny’s flank.  His face is nestled in Danny’s shoulder, his toes are sticking out of the end of the bedcovers.  Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, he looks like he’s deeply asleep.

Danny drinks in the sight, lets himself enjoy it.  He and Steve have been like ships passing in the night for weeks now. Just lying next to him is enough to make him feel better. Outside the birds have started singing, the first rays of sunshine are peeking under the blinds.  Inside the room is still bathed in half-darkness, making it feel warm and safe.  He’s missed these quiet moments with just the two them, when it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist.

 _I’ll never get bored of this._  

He smiles, letting his hand wander, his fingers skating over Steve’s shoulder.  The skin’s more tanned than when Danny first met him, the smaller scars are starting to blend in.  The skin’s still rough under his fingertips but it doesn’t surprise him anymore, it’s part of who Steve is.   When they’d first met Steve had explained much of the skin around the scars was numb.  Proving him wrong has been a lot of fun.

Steve rouses, muttering under his breath.  His toes wiggle, the move slowly turning into a full catlike body stretch. 

Danny doesn’t let him finish it, leaning over for a kiss instead.  The angle’s awkward but Steve turns into it, their lips coming together into a slow, sleepy kiss.  Danny rolls with it, sliding down to twist his legs into Steve’s, tugging him closer.  He groans into the kiss, letting his hands roam lower, stroking Steve’s stomach, twisting his fingers through the dark wiry hair.

Danny’s smile grows as muscles twitch under his fingertips, his own arousal pooling warm in the pit of his belly.  His cock fills and hardens and he presses into Steve’s body, grinding his arousal into Steve’s hip.  He lives for these moments - slow, easy, comfortable sex with the man he loves.  No expectations.  No pressures. 

_How the hell did he get to be so lucky?_

Or perhaps he’s not.  Danny’s heart sinks as Steve pulls away from him.  “Get back here,” he demands, sliding his hand around Steve’s neck, trying to pull him back for another kiss.

Steve dips in, leaning over him, but his eyes are full of regret.  “Sorry,” he sighs, his eyes sliding to the bedside alarm clock and back again.  “I gotta go to work.” 

“No, no, no.  Uh, uh.  I got a whole morning before I gotta go to work.  Four hours, Steven.  We’re gonna spend them in this bed.  _Together_ ,” he adds, grinding his hips again, “just in case I hadn’t made that clear.”

Danny’s erection twitches at Steve’s answering groan.  Danny flicks his hips, sparks shooting up his spine and he pulls Steve’s closer, needing more contact, more skin, more heat, more _everything_.  “God, I love you.”

Steve’s hair is overdue a cut, something he’d been complaining about the day before.  Danny runs his fingers through it, sweeping through the curls to massage the skin underneath.   His fingertips slide over the scarred, bald patches of skin around the hairline and down his neck.  Steve tilts his head to give more access, allowing Danny to cup his head and massage the soft spot at the base of his skull.  Steve hums with pleasure, a warm, deep sound that goes straight to Danny’s cock.

“You like that, babe?”

Steve sighs, rolling over to rest his chin on Danny’s chest.  His eyes as they meet Danny’s are full of regret.  “This one’s important.  I gotta go.”

Danny doesn’t doubt Steve’s regret: he can feel his half-hard erection nudging against his thigh.  “A couple of hours,” he whispers, reaching down for a kiss.  “Billy can handle your movie star until then.”

Steve’s answering kiss is hard, full of passion.  But he still pulls away, his eyes on the alarm clock.  “Billy’s picking me up at 8.”

“So delegate.” 

“I can’t.  Not this one.”

Danny rolls onto to his back with a loud huff.  He recognises that note of determination in Steve’s voice.   He pouts anyway; tonight seems like a long way away.  “He better be worth it.”

Steve’s sliding out of bed.  He stops, a scowl on his face.  “Tremaine?  He’s not.”

“But you need the clients, without the clients the team doesn’t get paid.  I get it.”

“Danny.”

Danny reaches out and runs a finger down Steve’s spine.  “I get it, okay.  I do.”

Steve watches him over his shoulder.  “Tonight,” he promises, his eyes darkening as Danny’s finger comes to rest at the base of his spine.  “Tonight.”

Danny’s cock twitches in response but he’s grabbing at thin air as Steve gets to his feet.  Resigned to his fate Danny lays back and watches as Steve disappears into the wardrobe, just his naked butt sticking out. 

A naked butt which seems to be sticking out a long way.  “You’re a fucking tease,” Danny  grumbles under his breath.  “Bastard,” he adds as the butt wiggles in reply.  “I might just have to rethink my plans for tonight…”

Danny trails off, swallowing hard,  as Steve shuts the closet door.  The half-light is throwing shadows; they pick out the dips and curves of Steve’s body in sharp relief.  Wide shoulders sloping down into a tight waist, with washboard abs that Danny knows will ripple with laughter if he tickles them.  The dark trail of hair of that he loves playing with casts a dark shadow down to a cock that is half-hard.  “Fuck.”

Steve licks his lips, takes an involuntary step forward.  For a second Danny thinks he’s got him.  Then his face twitches, his shoulders stiffen and he’s moving, his hips rolling in a determined stride as he heads for the bathroom.

Cursing silently, it takes Danny a moment to realise what Steve is carrying in his hand.  Steve always wears black when he’s working.  For the high-end clients it’s always a black suit.  But today he’s got the Armani suit out. 

Danny _loves_ the Armani suit.  Correction, he has a thing about getting Steve out of that Armani suit.

Steve knows about his fetish.  Danny’s sure of that when Steve looks back over his shoulder, a cheeky grin on his face.  Danny holds his gaze, considering his options.  Slowly, very slowly, he pushes down the sheet covering his torso, letting his fingers linger as the sheet comes to rest below his waist.

Steve curses loudly, uttering a few words that Danny’s not heard before.  As the bathroom door slams behind him Danny starts laughing.  They’re gonna have one hell of a night.

H50H50H50H50

Steve wants a beer.  An ice cold Longboard.  He wants to sit on their lanai as the sun goes down and take his time drinking it, just waiting for Danny to come home from work.  And when Danny walks in Steve will be waiting for him dressed in his black Armani suit, the same suit that Danny had been so desperate to get him out of that morning.  Steve will protest some, make Danny work for it because that’s what Danny likes.  But then he’s going to let Danny do whatever he wants because an irate and horny Danny is one of his favourite things. 

Steve blinks at the images his brain is supplying, feels his face warm up in response.  Involuntarily he licks his lips.  He wants that beer so, _so_ much.

A sense of disappointment rolls over him.  Right now Danny and that beer are a long way into his future.  He’s stuck in the penthouse of a luxury Oahu hotel.  And Danny’s on the other side of the island, working on a case.  Steve scowls at the closed bedroom door in front of him, wishing he could see through it with willpower alone.    "This guy is married with kids, right?"

Billy, his second-in-command, is sitting beside him on a giant over-stuffed couch.  Billy shrugs with one shoulder, resignation written across his face. 

Steve sighs and crosses his arms.  His black suit jacket is tight across his shoulders, rubbing against his scarred skin.  He tugs at his shirt cuffs, trying in vain to get comfortable. Every time he shifts on the couch he sinks further into it, his knees coming towards his chin.

Next to him Billy exhales through his nose.

Steve scowls at the closed door some more.  On the other side of it is Rocky Tremaine: movie star, part-time musician, charity supporter, husband, father, son.

Adulterer.

"Remind me again, why are we here?"

Steve ignores his friend.  Through the door they can hear high-pitched giggling, followed by Tremaine's deeper laugh.  Steve ignores the urge to storm in and drag out the woman who's almost young enough to be Tremaine's daughter.  Instead he gets slowly to his feet, straightens his jacket and walks over to knock twice on the door.

"Excuse me, Mr Tremaine.  Your car is waiting."

The giggling cuts off abruptly.  Steve goes back to the couch and sits down, hitching his pants to avoid any creases.  Danny's got plans for this suit, he reminds himself.  He’s going to have that beer if it’s the last thing he does today.

"Whatcha smiling about?"

Steve looks over, allowing himself a full smile.  Billy studies him for a moment then rolls his eyes.  Shaking his head he turns his attention back to the closed door.

It's been nearly a year since Steve met Danny.  A year since he'd been knocked sideways, his life turned upside down by the whirlwinds that are the Williams family.  Billy's witnessed the transformation and in the process he’s developed a high tolerance for Steve's 'goofy' faces.  That doesn't stop Billy taking any opportunity to make fun of him.

"Four more days," Steve cuts in before Billy can do just that.  "Four more days and this dickhead goes home.”

Billy looks unhappy again.  "Not sure I can keep my hands off him that long."

Steve bites back the retort that springs to mind.  "We talked about this.  It's easy money.  It's _good_ money.  If I want to keep the company going we have to diversify.  Celebrities come to Hawaii for their vacations so—"

"Diversify?  What kind of word is that?  When you went on that business course I thought you were learning to keep the books straight, not taking a crash course in how to make our lives hell—”

"Billy."

Billy settles back into his seat, his lips drawn together in a mulish line.  "We're getting paid by the hour, right?"

Steve's distracted by voices talking in his earpiece.  Tremaine's chauffeur and personal assistant are waiting for them in the building’s underground parking lot.  Steve grimaces at the high-pitched chatter.  Despite several demonstrations with the equipment they haven’t got the hang of communications etiquette.  "Five minutes," he bites out, clicking the earpiece off before they can reply.

"The money we'll get from this will pay everyone's salaries for a fortnight," he says, as much to himself as to Billy.  "Let’s get this done."

Not waiting for an answer Steve marches to the door.  Hand raised he freezes when it opens.  Tremaine saunters out, one arm draped around the young woman.  The bastard winks at him and slaps him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger a moment too long.

Steve stares back.  He's gritted his teeth so hard his jaw is aching.

"Your car is ready, Mr Tremaine."  Billy's standing by the front door of the apartment.  Anyone looking at him would think he was totally relaxed.  Steve knows better.

Luckily Tremaine seems oblivious to how close he is sailing to the wind.  "Sweet."  Sharing another wink with Billy he glides out of the room with his companion in tow.  Billy mouths something at Steve and he doesn't need to lip read to know it's not complimentary.

Billy calls down to the basement to confirm they're moving.  Steve follows them out, surreptitiously brushing at the fabric of his jacket, wiping away at where Tremaine had touched it.  The suit is probably the most valuable thing he owns, apart from his truck.

Steve focuses back on Tremaine.  Picking up the pace he catches up with them, taking point and letting Billy bring up the rear.  Tremaine’s a B-lister at best, more famous for his good-looks than his acting ability.  He's had his share of obsessed female groupies over the years (which just makes Steve's mind boggle) but they're not aware of any current threat.  Tremaine's paid for their professional expertise though so they run through the drills, checking everyone out as they work their way down to the car.

Steve has to call on every ounce of that professionalism as they get in the car and head for the local mall.  Tremaine's PA is called Justin.  Justin doesn't know when to shut the hell up.

Steve envies Billy who has taken the seat upfront with the chauffeur.  Steve's drawn the short straw - the seat right next to Justin.  Across from them Tremaine and his companion are still wrapped around each other, the young woman snuggling up under his chin.

They’re not expecting any crowds.  Tremaine was adamant that he wanted to stay low key.  The large hat and dark glasses he’s chosen to bring with him aren’t unusual in a tropical location like Hawaii.  But Steve hears alarm bells as soon as they turn into the road in front of the mall.  There’s a crowd of women outside the main entrance and they don’t look like they’re queuing for the discount sales.

“What the holy fuck…”

Steve seconds Billy’s muttered expletives.  He’s vaguely aware of the locks on the car doors clicking shut and is thankful that he’s got Billy watching his back.  His attention though is on Justin sitting beside him: the man looks positively gleeful.

“What did you do?”

His suspicion is proved right as Justin’s expression turns guilty and he refuses to meet Steve’s gaze, choosing instead to stare at his phone.  Steve grabs it, ignoring Justin’s shout of complaint as he scrolls through the screens.  With a snort of disgust Steve tilts the screen so that Billy can see it over his shoulder.  Justin’s been posting on Twitter: now the whole world knows where they are.

Steve flips the phone over and removes the battery.  “Mr Tremaine, I can’t guarantee your safety if you go out there now,” he advises, stuffing the battery in his jacket pocket before throwing the phone in Justin’s lap.

Tremaine slowly unwraps himself from the woman, his irritation clear as he turns his to Steve.  “You didn’t come cheap, Commander.  I was told you were professional, the best, ex-special forces.  If you don’t think you can manage a few excitable women then of course I will bow to your superior knowledge…”

_But you can forget about your fee._

The unspoken threat hangs between them.  Steve tells himself to breathe.  He’s been in much tougher situations before.  Much tougher.  But civilian life is run with a different set of rules.  And three years after leaving the Navy there are still days when he finds it hard to navigate his new world.

With a terse nod at Billy he raps out instructions to the chauffeur and Justin.  If the situation goes south they stick together – and they have to listen any orders that he and Billy give.  Steve’s reassured by the wide-eyed look Justin gives him: his Navy Commander voice still has its uses.  The chauffeur’s onboard too, nodding as Billy gives him further instructions.

Tremaine unlocks his lips from his companion’s just long enough to roll his eyes.

Getting out of the car is surprisingly easy.  Store security are outside and keeping control of the crowd.  Steve sticks close to Tremaine as his client stops to sign autographs and take pictures.  He’s aware that Billy’s a couple of steps behind him, covering his back.  The women’s excited screams fills the air but Steve ignores them, focusing on the individuals in the crowd instead.

He scans the crowd then scans back again, his inner eye doing a double take.  There’s a man in the crowd, young, dressed in a long overcoat.  Steve’s sweating under his own jacket, there’s no way anyone should be wearing that many layers in this heat.  Instinctively he reaches out for Tremaine, his hand hovering under his elbow, ready to pull him back.

Steve glances over at Billy.  “Young guy in the crowd.  Wearing a long coat.  5’ 11.  Tell me if you see him.”

Billy nods, his attention instantly turning to the crowd.  Steve does the same.  He frowns as he realises the man’s gone and he scans the crowd again, slower this time, taking in each individual face.  It’s all women, no men, but he keeps looking, instinct directing his moves.

Something’s not right.    

There’s a flash of light in the crowd, gone as soon it appeared.  Steve narrows his eyes, peering over people’s heads.  He grabs Tremaine’s arm but Tremaine pulls away, his mouth twisted in an angry snarl.  

Steve steps in front of him, raising his arm to block his way.  So he’s got his back to the crowd when a shot rings out, the sound bouncing off the tall buildings.  The screams that follow are deafening.

“Gun!”

Billy’s shouted warning is barely audible over the noise.  Steve pulls his gun the same moment as Billy.  Dropping into a crouch he covers his friend as Billy pushes Tremaine toward the car. 

“Tremaine, you bastard!  I know you slept with my wife!”  The man in the coat is standing on the edge of the crowd, his gun pointing in the air.  His eyes are wide, his pupils huge black pools in a pale face.  He takes a step forward and then another, oblivious to the terrified people huddled on the ground around him. 

Steve takes aim.  “Put the gun down!”

“I want Tremaine!”

“Put it down!”  Steve meets the man’s eyes, willing him to follow the order.  He’s been in this situation before, just not in Hawaii.  Angry young men with guns are rarely a good combination.  Testosterone and adrenaline affect judgement.  Cornered, this guy is a ticking bomb.

“I was gonna marry her, that bastard took her—". 

“Put the gun on the ground and let’s talk.  He’s not worth it, buddy.”  As a security consultant Steve’s authorised to carry a concealed weapon.  But he’s not a police officer.  Or a Navy SEAL.  Right now he should be calling HPD.  “Put it down.  Don’t make this any worse, okay?”

“Steve!”

“Go!”  Steve doesn’t look over his shoulder to check what’s happening.  Billy’s cursing but Steve knows he’ll get their client out of there and call in the cavalry.

The young man watches the car speed off, his eyes widening further.  A young woman huddled on the ground looks up, her eyes wide with fear – and determination.  Steve swears under his breath and tightens his grip on his gun but he’s already too late.  As she lunges to her feet, her arms stretched out to grab the man, another shot rings out and there’s chaos again as people start running. 

Steve pushes through the wall of people in front of him, holding his gun high.  He catches a glimpse of the man’s face, can see him barging through the crowd.  Steve follows, making it out of the crowd just in time to see his target disappear around a corner.

The streets are a maze of outdoor markets and alleyways but following him isn’t actually difficult.  A man brandishing a gun gets a reaction and Steve follows the shouts of alarm.  Some people helpfully point out where the suspect went.  Others are taking pictures with their phones.

 _Idiots,_ he thinks, sprinting past them.  “Get inside!  Get safe!”

His target is fast, Steve realises, upping his own pace, lengthening his stride.  His lungs protest at the sudden activity, he feels his chest start to constrict. It’s a relief when his earpiece springs to life, Billy’s voice cutting through the sound of his own laboured breathing.  “HPD are on their way to your location, Steve.  Keep eyes on him.  Do not engage.”

“Copy that.”

“Steve…”

“He’s fired shots, Billy.  Tell them to get a move on.”

 _Fuck Tremaine and his fucking dog allergy,_ Steve thinks as the suspect speeds up again, making his lungs protest even more.  Max would have taken this bastard out by now.  Seventy pounds of angry German Shepherd is a lethal weapon in a situation like this.

Steve digs deep, pulling on every last reserve of energy.  In the distance is the Ala Wai Canal.  Crowds of tourists are milling around taking pictures on their phones, oblivious to the danger approaching them.  Steve sees the young man look back at him, his eyes widening as he realises just how close Steve is.  He trips over his own feet and stumbles, throwing his hands out to save him.  He fumbles the gun and it goes off, the sharp crack of the shot echoing off the buildings.  There’s a second of silence, like the world has stood still.  Then all hell breaks loose again.

The crowd of tourists ripples and expands as people run for cover and in the chaos Steve loses sight of the man again.  His breath hitches, pulling at his ribs and there’s nothing he can do to stop the coughing fit that tears its way out of his lungs.  Bent over, Steve blinks through the tears obscuring his vision and scans the crowd again.

“Steve!  Can you hear me?  HPD are two minutes out.”

Steve hefts the gun in his hand and forces himself upright.  This guy he’s chasing might have been after Tremaine but he’s already let off shots in crowds of civilians.  It’s only a matter of time before someone is injured or worse.

“Steve!”

“I’m here, buddy.”  Steve takes a shallow breath and then another, getting just enough air in to talk.  “He’s panicking, Billy.  I can’t let him go.”

Billy’s voice goes distant, he’s talking to someone on the phone.  Over the screams Steve hears a police siren.  Soon it’s joined by several more.  “HPD.  They’re here,” he’s reports. The feeling of relief is immense.  Lack of oxygen is making his head swim.

Suddenly the crowd in front of Steve parts and the man’s revealed, huddling on the ground, blood dripping from a cut on his head. Panic crosses his face when he sees Steve and he scrabbles to his feet, staggering crab-like towards the canal. 

“Target’s moving.”  Steve’s vaguely away of Billy yelling at him as he forces himself forward,  grunting with effort as he gets his legs under him and covers the space between them.  He tackles the man low like a line backer, his momentum driving them both towards the edge of the canal. 

Steve wuffs with shock as his ribs collide with the canal wall.  All the air is knocked out of his lungs.  The man tries to grab Steve around the neck and pull backwards but Steve tightens his grip and they go backwards over the wall, plummeting like a dead-weight towards the water.  Steve’s vaguely aware of the sky spinning above them and the shocked faces of tourists, their mouths open, eyes wide with fear.  Then he’s falling backwards into the water, the weight of the man on top pushing him down.

As he goes under Steve’s last thought is that the suit Danny loves so much is going to be ruined – then pain shoots through his head and everything goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

 

H50H50H50H50

“Your boyfriend’s up to 3,000 likes, Williams.”

Danny grimaces as a phone is shoved under his nose.  He doesn’t need to look at the video playing on it to know what his fellow detective is talking about.  It’s been four days since Steve’s accident, since he got the call from Billy telling him to get to the hospital.  He’s lost count of the number of times he’s heard people talking about it  Every time it sends a shiver of fear down his spine.

“Some of us are busy,” he shoots back, pushing his way past and heading for his desk.

“Hey, there’s no need to be weird about it.  It’s just some fun.  The way Steve took out that perp was—“

Danny whirls round, retracing his steps.  “Fun?  Which part of your Neanderthal brain thinks anything in that video is fun, Roberts?  Huh?  What’s your favorite bit?   When Steve’s head bounces off the wall? Or when the uniforms jump in to get them out of the canal?”

Danny doesn’t realise he’s jabbing Roberts in the chest with his fist until Chin steps between them.  There’s a veil of anger obscuring his vision.  The urge to punch something is so, so strong.

“Coffee.  We’re going for coffee.” 

Before Danny can protest he’s being hustled out the HPD office, Chin blocking any opportunity to get back in there.  That doesn’t stop him sharing his thoughts with anyone within shouting distance.  “He’s a bastard. Someone needs to teach him a lesson.”

Chin leads Danny outside, pushing him towards the nearest coffee shop.  “True.  But not here and not now.  The last thing you need is a disciplinary charge.”

Danny’s pretty sure he doesn’t agree but he shuts his mouth anyway and lets himself be led into the store.  He waits until they’re settled with coffee before he speaks again, his voice tight with anger.  “He could have died, Chin.”

Chin’s expression is sympathetic.  “People understand that.  But Steve…he’s got this reputation.  You know that.  Ever since the Gonzales case.”  Chin shrugs apologetically.   “Taking out Gonzales’ whole crew single handed was pretty impressive, Danny.  Ten guys fully jacked up with weapons…”

Danny lets out a tired sigh.  Sometimes in the middle of the night he thinks about the Gonzales case too, the moment when they’d found Steve in the office block, the bodies of Gonzales and his men lying on the ground around him.  They’d come close to losing him then as well: it had been a defining moment in Danny’s life.

“I get it, okay,” he admits grudgingly, taking a drag from his coffee mug. ”He’s got this super-hero image.  It’s just he’s—“

“—not that person in real life?”

“Yeah.”  Danny takes another gulp of his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. 

Chin studies him as he stirs his own coffee.  “So you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asks, his causal tone not fooling Danny for a second.  “I’ll admit Roberts is a jerk but that’s not news.  You’ve been quiet all day.”  His voice goes low, full of concern. “ You worried about Steve?”

Danny chews on his bottom lip as he considers the question.  Following the incident in the canal Steve had been pumped full of steroids by the ER team to help his breathing.  He’d been discharged with a prescription to help with the bruised ribs and instructions to rest.  Infection from the pollution in the water was a serious concern, so there were antibiotics too.  It’s four days later and most of the pills have gone but Steve’s definition of ‘rest’ leaves something to be desired.  It’s something they’ve argued about over the last few days.

“He was okay, you know?  Well kind of,” Danny corrects with a frown, choosing his words carefully as Chin watches patiently.  “I mean he was bruised, his breathing was off.  And he had this cough but that happens when he overexerts himself so I just figured...I was just glad it wasn’t worse.  Then when I got home last night…I dunno…I thought maybe he had a temperature…he looked flushed, you know?  But he runs hot, he always runs hot…”

“So what did the doctor say?”

Danny puts a generous scoop of sugar in his coffee and stirs furiously.  “What doctor?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.  Ah.” Danny takes a sip of his drink then grimaces, pushing it away.  He hates sugar in his coffee.  “We…discussed it.” 

“And?”

Danny smooths back his hair and sits back.  “Let’s just say Steve declined my offer to call his doctor.”

“So?

“So… nothing. We haven’t talked about it again.”

“ _Danny_.”

“What?”  Danny throws his hands up in frustration.  “It’s private okay?  Steve’s a private guy.  I am too.  He doesn’t like talking about this stuff.”

“He’s your boyfriend.  You’re worried about him.  That’s what you’re supposed to—“

“Well, I guess that’s not how he sees it.”

“Brah—“

“Don’t, okay.” Danny closes his eyes against the sympathy in Chin’s voice.  He can count on one hand the number of times he and Steve have argued, really argued.  “It’ll be fine.  Steve always says I worry too much and he’s right.”

“No he’s not.”

Surprised, Danny opens his eyes.  “That’s not what you usually say—“

“This is different.”  Chin finishes his coffee and pushes it to one side, making space on the table to rest his crossed arms.  “You know him better than anyone else.  And your gut feeling is usually right.”

Danny sighs, meeting his friend’s gaze.  He’s so tired.  That morning he and Steve had woken up on opposite sides of the bed, the empty space between them a cold reminder of the night before.  More than anything he doesn’t want to wake up that way again.  “What am I supposed to say?” he replies, rubbing his tired eyes.  “Everything I say starts an argument.  He doesn’t want to talk…about anything.”

Chin finishes the last of his coffee.   “So don’t talk.  Sometimes just being there is the best you can do.  Cook dinner.  Watch a game.  Do something _normal_. “ He places his empty mug down carefully on the table.  “But seriously, if you think he needs a doctor, call one.  He’ll understand—“

“—not any time soon--”

“Probably sooner than you think.” Chin reassures him, his voice soft.  “From the first moment you met Steve nothing about your relationship has been conventional.  You’ve made it work.  Every relationship has growing pains.  You’ll figure this out too.”

H50H50H50H50

Danny’s still mulling over Chin’s advice an hour later when he pulls up outside the grocery store.   He respects his friend’s opinion but Chin’s never been through a divorce.  Danny knows what it feels like to doubt every emotion or feeling you’ve had for a person.  It’s taken him years to be at peace with what happened between him and Rachel. 

He’s not sure he could live through that again.

Danny knows he’s changed since his divorce from Rachel.  And Rachel and Steve are like chalk and cheese – thank God.   Ironically now it’s the opposite problem: he and Steve are alike in many ways.  They’ve both got a stubborn streak running through them.  Once in a while those stubborn streaks meet head on.

Danny stifles a yawn as he starts walking down the aisles.  The case he and Chin have been working on is a tough one.  Long days have been normal, there haven’t been many breaks.

_Maybe Chin’s right,_ Danny thinks, his steps feeling lighter as he runs the idea through his head.   Maybe he and Steve just need some time together.  Quality time, like they used to have.  _Date night._.  He wonders where the hell he got that phrase from.

Danny smiles as he starts filling his basket, the first inklings of a plan coming together.  The last time they’d got close to any quality time together had been the morning that Steve had left early to meet Billy and Tremaine.

The next time he’d seen Steve he’d been in the Emergency Room.

“Excuse me.”

Danny comes back to himself with a start.  A woman is standing in front of him with her shopping cart. He’s blocking the aisle.  On automatic pilot he steps to one side, his mind still replaying that moment in the hospital.  Steve had been dressed in scrubs, his skin sallow under the bright lights.  A bruise was blossoming across his temple, he’d been linked up to IV drips and oxygen.  And all he’d kept saying was how sorry he was about the Armani suit.  That fucking Armani suit.

A wave of anger hits Danny mid-chest.  Anger at Tremaine for being an arrogant, self-centred bastard.  Anger at Steve for being a self-sacrificing idiot who thinks protecting people is more important than his own safety.

_Hypocrite_ a voice in his head tells him.  It sounds very like Rachel’s.

Danny quashes the anger down, hard.  Steve’s okay, he reminds himself.  That’s all that matters.  Things could have been a whole lot worse. 

He keeps reminding himself as he walks around picking up groceries.  On the drive home he puts on his favorite Bon Jovi album.  It’s enough to buoy up his mood again.  By the time he pulls up outside his house he’s banging out the beat on the steering wheel as Jon Bon Jovi declares _‘It’s my life, it’s now or never, I ain’t gonna live forever…’_

It’s not until he turns the engine off that he registers the sound of barking outside.  It’s a deep mournful sound that sends shivers to the core of his bones.  Frowning, he gets out of the car.

It’s Max, inside the house.

Danny’s drawn his gun before he realises it, checking for signs of a disturbance as he runs towards the house.  Steve’s truck is parked in the driveway, right where it had been that morning.  A thudding noise joins the sound of barking.  Danny halts, his brain working through the options.  Then he’s running again, his heart plummeting to his feet. 

Max is digging at the door, desperately trying to get out.

Danny runs through his entry drills, training taking over when every instinct is screaming at him to get the hell in there.  He’s barely through the door when Max jumps up at him.  It takes all of his strength to push him away.  He’s breathing hard as he checks the living space, noting Steve’s keys and phone laying on the coffee table.  There’s a blanket hanging off the edge of the couch.  The TV’s on but it’s been muted, the cartoon characters on the screen moving silently in the too quiet house.

Max pulls away, his claws scrabbling on the flooring as he runs down the hallway past the bedrooms.  Danny reins in the urge to follow him, swallowing down the growing feeling of panic.  He checks the kitchen and the bedrooms, each room passing in a blur.  Max runs back and crouches down in front of him, barking loud enough to make Danny’s ears ring.   Suddenly he starts running in circles around Danny’s legs, herding him up the hallway and Danny folds, holstering his gun and running for the only room he hasn’t checked.

Pushing open the bathroom door, Danny sees what he’s been dreading.  Steve’s sprawled on the floor, his shoulders and head leaning awkwardly against the wall.  Eyes closed, his dark eyelashes stand out in sharp contrast against the unnatural paleness of his skin.  More worrying is the blue tinge to his lips.

Danny falls to his knees beside him, cursing under his breath.  Steve’s dragging in air in short, sharp pants, each breath making a painful crackling sound.  Steve’s eyes flicker open.  The panic in them makes Danny’s throat constrict.

“It’s okay, babe.  I got you.”

The words of reassurance flow automatically as he reaches out to squeeze Steve’s hand.  There’s an inhaler on the floor next to Steve but a quick check shows it’s empty.  The bathroom cabinet is open but it’s empty as well. 

“Hang on,” Danny urges when Steve’s grip tightens, his eyes growing wide with panic as Danny gets to his feet.

Steve’s got an emergency bag of medication that he keeps in the bedroom closet.  Back in the bathroom Danny turns it upside down, depositing the contents on the floor.  Steve’s eyes are open at half-mast, unfocused.  Danny wills his hands to stop shaking as runs through the emergency medical instructions Steve had briefed him on, months before.  It feels like an age before he secures the spacer on the end of the inhaler and helps Steve to take four puffs.

Danny retrieves his phone from his pocket, his fingers fumbling to dial 911.  As the phone starts to dial he tucks it against his shoulder, using his free hand to keep the inhaler in place. Steve’s body is shaking: minute tremors that make his eyelids twitch.   Danny scoots closer as the 911 operator asks him for details, huddling up against Steve on the cold bathroom floor.  He shifts over further as Max slides down on the floor beside them, stretching out his body alongside Steve’s legs.

Danny flicks the phone onto loud speaker and puts it down on the floor.  He keeps talking to the operator, telling himself to focus on her calm tone.  Steve’s breathing in with the inhaler but it’s having little effect.  Danny tells him to hold on, keeps squeezing his hand encouragingly.  But Steve’s eyes are almost closed again, every breath rattling in his chest.  Danny blinks away the tears he can feel forming, leans down to rub them away on his arm.

When Danny looks up again, he finds himself looking straight into Steve’s eyes.  Shock and relief course through his body but it’s short-lived; Steve’s eyes are full of pain and fear.  Weakly he tries to remove the inhaler.  Danny stops him, curling his fingers around his hand.   Steve’s lips are moving.  Danny stares at them, trying to make sense of what Steve is trying to say.

_‘Sorry.’_

“Steve.  Oh, bab—“  Danny stops, choking on his words. Beside him, Max whines, pushing his nose under Steve’s hand.  Danny can’t stop the panic that engulfs him as Steve’s eyes start to drift closed.

There’s a look of sad resignation in them.

Danny scrambles back up on his knees, surprising Max who jumps up with a yelp.  Danny grabs Steve’s shoulders and slides in behind him, wrapping his arms around his chest, protecting him the only way he knows how.  Steve’s head lolls against his chest like a broken puppet, his heart hammering under Danny’s hands.  Danny tries the inhaler again, cursing as it slips out of his hand and the puff of medication floats away.  With a grunt of desperation he gathers Steve in further, his lips moving against Steve’s hair as he recites a silent prayer.

_I’m sorry too, babe.  I love you.  Please don’t leave me here._

H50H50H50H50H50

**Six weeks later**

_“Commander!  Steve…we need to get this off you…damn!”_

_Steve rears back from the pain, trying to get his feet under him.  His vision’s blurred, sweat dripping into his eyes.  He blinks, trying to focus.  It’s hot, so hot, it feels like his chest is burning from the inside out.  “Max…where’s…Billy…gotta talk to Billy.”_

_“You need to keep him still.   Whatever those bastards used, it’s burnt through his clothes.  For fuck’s sake don’t get it on you.”_

_“Billy…”  The surface underneath him is metal.  It’s vibrating, the extra bullet proof plates rattling as everything suddenly tilts.  Med-evac helicopter, Steve notes vaguely, his vision clearing enough for him to realise he’s being turned on his side.  His vision fills with dirt-covered combat boots and people kneeling down.  Beyond them, through the open side-hatch, he can see the Afghan desert, the blue sky shimmering from the heat._

_“Ambush…Max…where’s Max…”_

_“We’ve got ‘em, Commander.  They’re coming in on the next evac helo…”_

_Someone’s whimpering, a low, desperate, pain-filled sound that’s barely audible over the frantic voices around him.  Steve twists to find it but the volume rises as hands grab at him and pull him back down.  Someone’s pushing on his chest and he’s struggling to breathe.  Steve wants to tell them to stop but it’s impossible, his mind clouding as pain sets in.  He scrambles to get his feet under him again but the heels of his combat boots can’t get purchase on the metal; it’s like trying to walk on ice._

_Steve twists his body, wrenching his arm out, looking for something to hold on to.  The whimpering is high pitched now, so close, but he can’t look for it because it feels like he’s drowning and burning up at the same time.   There’s a vice round his ribs, squeezing out all the air and in its place is pain, a red hot ball of pain. And it’s growing._

_Steve curls into himself, tries to pull his knees to his chest.  There’s moisture on his cheeks and the coolness is a welcome relief.  The burning hot pain is spreading like wildfire, across his shoulders and the back of his neck.  Someone’s tilting his head back, a gloved hand pressing insistently on his forehead.   There’re fingers in his mouth, someone leaning on his legs and everything’s blurring and he wants to beg them to make it stop but he can’t breathe and there’s something clicking against his teeth, and it hurts so fucking much…_

Steve wakes with a gasp, his heart thudding in his chest.  Panic’s still coursing through his veins, making his brain short-circuit, robbing him of the ability to breathe.  It flips him straight back there.  His heart rate accelerates.  His ears fill with the sound of rushing blood.  _You’re safe,_ a voice in the back of his head tells him and he grabs onto the lifeline, letting it haul him in.  _Breathe, just breath_ e.

Opening his eyes, Steve takes in his surroundings.  It’s dark, nothing like the blindingly bright sun of the Afghan desert.  It’s cooler too, his skin prickling with goose-bumps despite the sheets covering his legs.  There’s no metal digging painfully into his back either, only the soft support of a mattress caressing his skin.  Steve strokes his fingers across the scarred skin on his chest and shoulder, feeling his heartbeat start to slow.  His breath is still hitching on each inhale, his ribs twinging on the exhale but that’s a familiar side-effect of the nightmares.

He’s _home_.

His breath hitches again but this time it’s not from panic. Carefully he rolls onto this side.  Danny’s asleep beside him, their faces just inches apart.  Steve studies him, noting every worry line, frowning at the mottled shadows under Danny’s eyes.  It’s been a hard few months for both of them.  Resisting the urge to touch, Steve tucks his hands against his chest and watches Danny sleep.

Their Sunday mornings on the beach mean Danny has more freckles now than when he first met him, a light sprinkling across his nose and brow that disappear into his hairline.  His hair’s lighter too, the curled tips bleached by the sun.   The gel that usually holds Danny’s hair in place has dried out, releasing it across his pillow.  Steve reaches out to push an errant strand of hair from Danny’s face, smiling as it springs back under his touch.

Danny approaches sleep like he does everything else in his life – with total commitment.   Curled on his side with his lips slightly parted and his hands loosely tucked under his chin, he’s deeply asleep.  Steve mirrors Danny’s pose, bringing his legs up so their knees are nearly bumping.   Gently he pulls the sheets up over them and closes his eyes, letting the sound of Danny’s breathing lull him back to sleep.

Steve’s not sure how much later it is when he wakes again but there’s light peeking around the edge of the curtains.  His heartrate’s almost normal, the tight knot of panic in his chest has gone.  But the memory of pain and fear lingers, hovering like a dark cloud.  Briefly Steve considers ignoring it.  He’s warm and safe and the urge to curl around Danny and pull him close is almost overwhelming.

Almost.

Steve’s concedes to his body’s instincts with an inward sigh.   He’s been here so many times before: with the memories and the adrenaline still lingering he has no choice but to move.  Sliding out of bed he leans down to brush his lips across Danny’s temple.  Danny mumbles, shuffling further into the sheets before sighing and settling back into sleep.  Steve’s not surprised he hasn’t woken him. Three days earlier Danny and Chin had finally cracked the case they’d been working on.  Since then Danny’s been like a wind-up toy slowly running out of power.  The night before he’d finally crashed.

Steve lets himself out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click.  Max is sitting in the hallway waiting for him.  Ears pricked, eyebrows joined together in a frown, he’s clearly anxious.  Steve’s not surprised: Max has always been able to sense his nightmares.  He sticks out one hand to let Max lick it.  The other he strokes down Max’s back, winding his fingers through the coarse, wiry hair.  The scars on Max’s skin are smoother than his but the bald patches are still red and sore looking.  Steve’s scars still ache sometimes, the damaged skin tight and painful.  The military veterinary staff had assured him that Max doesn’t feel the same thing but it doesn’t stop him checking.

Max licks his hand once more before trotting off.  Steve follows him obediently, the corner of his mouth flicking up in a ghost of a smile.  Steve is still the pack leader when they’re working.  But at home it’s Danny and Grace who have captured Max’s heart.

Their lives have changed so much in twelve months.

By the time Steve catches Max up he’s already sitting by the back door waiting for his harness to be put on.  Steve slips off his t-shirt and shorts, shivering as the cool air hits his naked skin.  Padding to the laundry room he retrieves his running kit.   He shrugs it on, wincing at the tightness in his shoulders.  Ignoring the insistent itch of the adrenaline, Steve stands and stretches his back, preparing himself for the last bit of his morning routine.

Hands on hips, Steve takes a breath and then another one, deeper this time.  He can feel the air moving in and out of his lungs, feels the way it hitches on the exhale.  Closing his eyes he runs through his breathing exercises, following the instructions from the respiratory therapist at Tripler. 

“This will get better,” she’d told him, her eyes full of sympathy.  “I know you’re frustrated but it’s a temporary setback, Commander.  Pneumonia was always a risk with your existing condition.  We can work on getting you back to where you were.”

Steve had wanted to tell her that where he’d been before the pneumonia hadn’t been that great either.  He couldn’t swim for hours like before or run until his muscles ached so hard he could barely walk.  There were still days when he didn’t feel like _him_ anymore, even three years after the attack in Afghanistan.

But then Danny had appeared to collect him from his hospital appointment.   Danny who had been on a stakeout all night had been seated in the waiting area, his eyes soft with concern.  Steve had been on the verge of arguing, so pent up with frustration that he’d just wanted to let it all out.   Danny had slipped his arm around Steve’s waist before he could say anything, putting a strong shoulder under Steve’s, shoring him up as they headed for the parking lot.

At that moment Steve had remembered the argument they’d had the day he’d been admitted to Tripler.  Much of that day is a confused blur of pain and panic but Danny’s fear-filled expression is seared in his mind.  Letting the anger win again wasn’t an option.  So instead he’d decided to use the anger to fuel his recovery instead.

Some days it had been easier said than done.

“Let’s try for the beach,” Steve says to Max, putting on the body harness and the lead.  The harness has four pockets, enough space for a water bottle, phone, his emergency inhaler and a stash of Max’s favorite Milk-Bones.  It’s twenty minutes to the beach, longer depending on how slow they go. 

Steve’s lungs twinge at the thought of going that far – he hasn’t been to the beach since the accident - but his body is telling him he just needs to _go_.  He’s almost out of the door, stuffing his wallet in his pocket, before he remembers the most important thing.  Diving back inside he scribbles out a note for Danny and then they’re off, just the two of them eating up the miles. 

It’s just like old times.

Except today it isn’t.  Fifteen minutes of running is his limit; by the time the beach is in sight Steve’s shuffling more than running, his breath coming in short, shallow pants.  Max is padding alongside him, his body leaning hard against Steve’s legs.

“Fuck.” Steve’s legs fold as they get to the sand.  “ _Fuck_ it.”   Steve’s not sure how long he lies there staring at the bright-blue Hawaiian sky, struggling to get his breathing under control.  A click of his fingers would get Max’s attention so he could retrieve the inhaler.  Instead Steve digs his nails into his palms and hangs on.

Max licking his face gets his attention, makes him roll over on his side and get his knees under him.  Max nudges him with his head, panting hot dog-breath in Steve’s face.  “Shit.  Sorry buddy.”  It might be early morning but it’s already warm for Max.  Steve forces his legs and arms to work, unclips Max’s lead and lets him go.

There’s a food truck a short way up the beach: he and Danny stop there regularly when they’re out training together.  Max bounds off towards it, spraying sand in his wake.  By the time Steve’s caught up the owner is out front, kneeling down to rub Max’s ears. 

Dev, the owner, glances up before returning his attention to Max.  “Howzit, brah?”

Steve sits down gratefully at a bench table.  “I’m good.”

Dev’s good at knowing when to talk and when not to: he nods and heads back to his truck.  Steve’s got huge respect for the guy - he’s raising three kids back at the temporary encampment that Steve used to live on before he’d met Danny.  It’s not an easy life.

“Where’s Danny?”

Steve blinks.  Dev’s standing by the table, juggling three cones of shave ice.  Max is right behind him, waiting impatiently as Dev sits down and offers him the treat.  Within seconds the German Shepherd is slurping the ice up greedily, his snout turning pink from the red syrup on top.

“I let Danny have the day off.” Steve digs into his own shave ice.

Dev eyes him suspiciously.  “Really?”

“Really.”  It’s no secret that while Danny isn’t adverse to exercise, it’s Steve who drags them out on the early morning runs. 

“Huh.”

“Huh?”  Steve studies his friend for a moment.  Then the penny drops.  “He told you, didn’t he?  Danny told you about this weekend.”

Dev laughs, twisting Max’s cone so the dog can get his muzzle in further until only his eyes and ears are poking out.  “That you’re celebrating your anniversary?  Yeah, he told me.”  He pauses to admonish Max for eating too fast.  “So you let him sleep in.  That’s big of you, bruddah.  Real romantic.”

Steve dips his chin, hoping his cheeks aren’t colouring with embarrassment.  Danny is the _one_ for him.  He’s been sure about that since they met: the last few months have only strengthened that belief.  But talking about any relationship still makes him feel like a gawky teenager in High School.  “Thanks.”

Max finishes his treat with a loud slurp.  Opening his jaws wide he gently takes the empty cone from Dev’s hand.  Dropping it to the floor he settles down to lick out the last few drops of syrup. 

Together they fall into a comfortable silence, finishing their own shave ices as they watch the beach slowly fill with people.  Steve can feel himself relaxing, the residual adrenaline from the nightmare finally gone.  They’ve still got the return trip back to look forward to but at least now he feels like he’ll make it.  Checking his watch, Steve finishes up.  Danny hadn’t made it in from work until the early hours so he’ll still be asleep.  But there’s one final piece of his anniversary plan that he and Max have to put into action before Danny wakes up.

“How much do I owe you?” Steve asks, standing up to retrieve his wallet from his running shorts.

Dev waves away his offer of cash.

“Are you sure?  I can—“

“Think of it as a welcome back gift.” Steve frowns in confusion.  Dev gives him a casual shrug.  “Danny talks a lot when he’s worried, man.  It’s good to see you back.”

Steve mulls over Dev’s words as he starts the slow run back, Max loping alongside him.  Guilt gnaws at him: Danny’s been through hell the last few months.  He knows he hasn’t been the easiest person to live with: he hates being benched.  But the last few weeks, he’s been making good use of the free time.  They’ve got four days off – _together_ , on their anniversary - and he’s got plans.

H50H50H50H50

Danny opens his eyes slowly, wincing at the gritty feeling under his lids.  He’d been awake twenty-four hours straight the day before, it had taken all his remaining energy to drive back home and faceplant into the bed.  The last thing he remembers is Steve tucking in beside him, stretching out an arm to pull him close.

The case he and Chin have been working on has been a tough one.  A mother of two gunned down in an apparent house robbery.  Two young children left without their Mom.  The day before they’d caught the assailant.  It had been a hollow victory.

Danny sighs and stretches, sliding down further into the bed.  Back in the day, before he’d met Steve, he would have collapsed on the couch, the empty bed a minefield of post-divorce memories and regrets that he didn’t want to negotiate.  Last night the warmth of Steve’s body against his, the soft wuff of Steve’s breath against his neck, it had been enough to help him sleep despite the images swirling in his mind.  Indulging in a full body stretch he reaches out, intending to curl around his human pillow and go back to sleep.

Steve’s side of the bed is cold.

Instantly his body goes on the alert.  Listening carefully he scans the house for signs of movement.  _He’s gone for a run,_ Danny’s voice of reason tells him.  But it’s not enough to stop him from getting out of bed.

_I need to use the bathroom,_ Danny tells himself but his heartbeat’s ramping up, revealing his own lie.  Pushing the bathroom door open, his heartbeat goes through the roof.  Revealing the room to be empty, that Steve isn’t sprawled unconscious on the floor, makes him feel sick with relief.  He smacks the door-frame open-handed, frustrated at this roller-coaster ride of emotions his body keeps sending him on.

He actually does need the bathroom but his body won’t let him rest.  He carries on checking the rooms in turn.  _Max isn’t here either_ , Danny tells himself sternly, hoping that will help cure his sense of unease.  It doesn’t - until he gets to the kitchen and he notices the running kit and Max’s harness are gone.  Steve’s phone and inhaler are missing too.

Danny sags, leaning against the kitchen worktop.  _This is normal,_ he keeps repeating to himself, taking deep breaths.  _They’ve gone for a run._

It’s been hard watching Steve struggle with his fitness.  It’s been even harder not being able to put everything right.  The man he loves - so full of energy and passion - had disappeared for a while back there.  Steve’s turned a corner during the last few weeks: he’s been more positive and upbeat.  Danny wishes he could turn that corner too.

_It’s fine,_ he repeats, pushing himself upright with a groan.  His body’s so tired from weeks of working long hours.  _And worrying about Steve._

Danny notices the creased piece of paper on the kitchen table as he heads for the door.  Steve’s a neat freak when it comes to the kitchen, it sticks out like a sore thumb.  Folded roughly in half his name is scribbled on the front in pink crayon.  Danny shakes his head as he opens it: Grace’s current obsession with unicorns and fairy princesses seems to have spread to her choice in sparkly coloring materials too.

_‘Go back to sleep, idiot._

_p.s Happy Anniversary’_

Danny stares at it for a moment.  He takes a sharp, surprised breath.  The reason he has four days off is because it’s their anniversary.  How the hell had he forgotten that?  More importantly his boyfriend has added a line of roughly drawn pink kisses under his message.  His hard-ass, ex-SEAL boyfriend who is still so careful with the simple ‘I love you’s’ every day.

Danny reads it again then folds it up carefully.  Back in the bedroom he props it up against the alarm clock, Steve’s message facing outwards.  Puffing up his pillows, he tries to go back to back to sleep.  It’s a long time coming: he can’t stop smiling like an idiot. 

H50H50H50H50

The second time Danny comes awake more slowly, his body reluctantly unfurling from a deep, satisfying sleep.  This time he can hear the soft rumble of Steve’s voice coming from the kitchen.  Max’s claws click-click-click across the kitchen floor.  He drifts for a while floating in a bubble of contentment.

He’s rudely interrupted by a wet nose rubbing his face.  Danny considers playing dead; Max scuppers his plan by sticking his nose in his ear.  Squirming away Danny pops open one eye…and stops dead.  “What the—”

A harried looking Steve appears in the doorway, carrying a tray loaded with mugs and plates of food.  He glares at his four-legged friend.  “Which part of ‘stay’ did you not understand?”  Max looks back at him balefully, his eyes liquid pools of guilt.  Steve sighs, raising his eyes heavenwards.

Danny pulls himself upright, settling against the headboard.  An aroma of fresh coffee and warm toast is filling the bedroom and his stomach gurgles its approval.  But first he’s got a mystery to solve.  “You wanna tell me what you’ve done to Max?” he asks as the dog in question whines unhappily and slides to the floor.

Danny’s not surprised Max is unhappy - he’s been dressed in a doggy outfit.  It’s a white cape with pink and yellow stars drawn on it, liberally sprinkled with glitter.  Along the spine and edges there are colourful ribbons attached.  It’s got a hood with pointy ears – which is what Danny had seen when he’d first woken up.  “What did the horrible man do to you, Maximillian?”

“It wasn’t me!”  Steve raises a hand defensively.  He drops it again as Danny waits.  “Okay it was me.  But Grace was the one who insisted on the unicorn outfit.  I told her he wasn’t going to like the ears.”

Danny’s pretty sure that it’s not just the ears on the outfit that are annoying Max. He’s chewing at one of the sparkly ribbons that’s attached to his legs.  Danny leans over the edge of the bed to study the outfit closely.  There’s a lot of hours of work gone into it: it’s not just something bought off the peg.  “You guys _made_ this?”

“Yeah.”  Steve looks down at his feet.  “I told Grace it was our anniversary, kind of like a birthday.  She wanted to surprise you with something.”

Steve’s answer is casual but Danny doesn’t miss the look of pride in his eyes.  “So…those afternoons you picked Grace up from school for me, you didn’t go for shave ice?”

Steve’s shoulders hunch up. “We went to the mall.”  He raises a finger.  “Once.  The rest of the time we were here making the outfit.  Rachel knows.  I had to tell her. Grace got that glittery stuff everywhere.  _Everywhere_ —”

“Get over here, you goof.”  Danny rolls up onto his knees, letting the bedclothes fall.  He’s naked.  As distractions go, it’s a winner.  Steve’s putting the tray down and kissing him in a second.

“You sure it’s okay?” Steve asks him when they come back up for air. 

Danny’s heart twists at the doubt in Steve’s voice.  Insecurity is something he understands well.  Dipping in for another kiss he answers the question with his lips.  He hums happily when Steve cups the back of his head, pulling him in further.  Closing his eyes he lets his other senses take over; stubble that catches on his finger, citrus scented shower gel competing with a hint of musk and…the taste of raspberry flavored syrup.

Eye’s flying open, Danny pulls away to look down at Max. There’s a tell-tale hint of pink on his snout.  Steve’s watching him warily.  “You taste of raspberry, babe,” Danny tells him, treading lightly.  The beach is one of their favourite places to go running.  Steve’s been missing that run - but he’s not wearing his happy post-running face. “You guys went to the beach.”

“I thought you’d want to sleep in.”

Danny knows a diversionary tactic when he sees one.  The underlying tone of frustration in Steve’s voice is familiar as well.  “Good call,” he offers, pulling Steve into a hug, soothing with his hands when he can’t with his voice.  They stay like that for a while, taking comfort in each other, until an impatient woof pulls them apart. Looking down they both start laughing:  Max has managed to demolish half of the outfit but it’s still stuck on his ears.

Danny takes pity on him, hanging off the edge of the bed.  It takes some wrangling and doggy-grumbling to get it off him but finally Max escapes its clutches.  It says something for Max’s training that he waits for Steve to dismiss him but once he does, with a jerk of his head, Max is out of the room in a flash.

Danny gets back into bed, the outfit in his hand.  He studies it closely, noting every star and tassel.  “This is really good.”

“I promised Grace you’d call her,” Steve tells him, moving the tray and sliding onto the other side of the bed.  “There was a horn thing, too,” Steve explains and Danny struggles not to laugh at the hand-gestures he’s making.  “But we ahh...we had a problem...”

Steve retrieves his phone out of his back pocket.  He’s taken pictures of Max while he was dressing him.  In every one Max looks gradually more morose.  In the penultimate picture Max is actually wearing the horn – barely.  It’s tied around his head with a piece of ribbon.  In the last picture the horn and ribbons are lying in a chewed mess at his paws.

“He let Grace put it on him,” Steve grumbles, a mock-disgruntled look on his face. 

Danny’s answering laughter earns him fingers in his ribs.  “You know who’s in charge in this house,” Danny shoots back, retaliating with fingers of his own.  Tickling always leads on to better things and his body’s already suggesting it’s on board with that idea.  “And it isn’t me and you.”

Steve shrugs, before pulling him in for a kiss. “That’s okay with me,” he confirms between more kisses.  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Danny pulls back, his heart skipping a beat.  Steve loves Grace, he gets that.  It’s as natural as the sun rising and falling.  And he loves Steve for it, so much.  But his casual statement had a hint of permanency running through it, a promise of forever.

He never thought he’d get to have this again.

“You okay?”  Steve’s frowning at him, his stare almost cross-eyed – they’re only inches apart.

Danny licks his lips, struggling to get his emotions under control.  “Never been better.”

Steve’s face unfolds into a  smile.  “Good.”  He looks at the bedside clock then gets up to close the bedroom door.  “In three hours we’ve got to be at the airport.”

“The airport?  Where are we…”  The words die on Danny’s lips.  Steve’s stripping off his tee and shorts, a hungry look on his face. “Three hours.  Copy that,” he agrees as Steve crawls onto the bed, looming over him, the muscles in his arms flexing as he plants his hands on either side of Danny’s head.  

Steve’s got plans for them, he thinks, as he arches up for a kiss, pushing the bed covers out of the way so that he can touch the naked skin that is hovering inches above him.  He’s got no problem with that.  There are definite advantages to being in love with a control freak ex-Navy SEAL.


	3. Chapter 3

H50H50H50H50

“Wow.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head at Danny. An hour earlier they’d landed in Maui and collected their rental car.  He’s chosen an open-top jeep and now they’re driving round the coast, slowly weaving their way through the tourist traffic.  Every corner they turn brings another stunning vista: everything’s impossibly green and breathtakingly beautiful.  He’s been to Maui before but for Danny it’s a first. 

Steve risks a quick glance over at the passenger seat.  The wind’s whipping up Danny’s hair  and tugging at the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing but Danny seems oblivious.  Steve can’t see his eyes – they’re both wearing shades - but his stomach somersaults at the grin on Danny’s face.  He looks carefree, younger.

It’s like the previous months never happened.

Steve turns his attention back to the road, wearing a big grin of his own.  Glancing in the rear view mirror he checks on Max, in the back seat.  The German Shephard’s sitting upright, his paws braced to keep him still every time they take a sharp curve in the road.  Ears at alert, tongue lolling out, his nose is twitching at all the scents as they pass the forest.  _Tomorrow, buddy,_ Steve promises him silently as he turns his attention back to the road.  Tomorrow they’ll be up there in the rainforest, checking out the trails. 

First though, they need to get food.  And find their bunk for the night.  Steve runs the plan through his mind again, checking on his mental map how far away the local General Store is.  His guess of fifteen minutes isn’t far off and it’s not long before they’re pulling into the parking lot.  Turning the engine off, he looks at Danny.  “You okay, there?”

Danny’s still got the same grin on his face.  Taking in their surroundings, he finally settles his attention on Steve.  “This is just…Wow.”

“Told you it’d be—”  He’s cut off as Danny pulls him over for a kiss.  It’s deep, sloppy, verging on dirty.  Steve feels a shiver down his spine, his cock stirring in response.  Half of him wants to go with it: the other half is reminding him they’re in a public place.

He groans with disappointment when Danny wiggles out of his grip.  “There’re kids, babe,” Danny chastises, as if the idea hadn’t been his in the first place. 

Steve opens his mouth to protest when Danny takes off his shades.  There’s an evil glint in his eyes that Steve knows only too well.  “Bastard.”

“Love you too,” Danny throws back as he gets out of the jeep, letting Max out too.  “Okay,” he asks, with a clap of his hands. “What’s the next part of your plan?”

Steve blinks, mentally shaking himself. Part of him had still been deep in that kiss.  “We need supplies,” he explains, locking the jeep and following them to the store.  “Food for a few days, milk, water—”

“So we’re not staying at a hotel?”

“No.”  Steve frantically runs the plan through his mind again: Danny doesn’t sound thrilled.  The cottage he’s booked for them is private, secluded.  They both love cooking and there’s space outside for Max.  Hotels, in contrast, are busy, noisy and run on a schedule. There’s people and nothing to do but sunbathe by the pool (which sends a shiver of fear down his spine) but if that’s what Danny wants there might be time to change the schedule. He’s got the numbers for a couple of hotels – he’d wanted a backup plan in case the weather was awful – but he hadn’t thought he’d need to use them …

“Excellent,” Danny announces, stroking Max’s head as he turns and carries on walking, Max following obediently behind him.  “This place got a BBQ grill?”

“Yes.”  Steve clears his throat, embarrassed at how high-pitched with relief his voice sounds.  “But I could get us a table if you want…”  Danny looks back at him.  There’s a cocky swagger to his gait. “Or we could stay in.  Staying in would be good too.”

“Perfect.”

_Perfect_.  Steve rolls the word around in his head as Danny goes in the store.  Arranging this surprise trip for Danny had bought out the worst of his control issues.  He’d been aware of that.  The fact Danny was indulging him, going along with it without asking too many questions, was testament to how much their relationship had developed over the last year.  But what he hadn’t been prepared for was how invested he was in it, how much he _needed_ this trip to work.

Over the previous months, when everything else in his life had felt out of control Danny had been there, ready to catch him every time he fell.

It’s exhilarating to know someone cares that much about him.  It’s frightening too.

“Poor thing.  What happened to you, huh?”

The woman’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts.  Turning, he finds Max stretched out in the shade in front of the store.  Tongue lolling, his lips curved at the ends, it looks like he’s smiling at the woman who’s stopped to talk to him. 

“Shameless,” Steve mutters under his breath as he jogs over to join them.  His highly trained ex-military attack dog is a shameless flirt.

His arrival is met with the usual suspicious looks.  The scars on Max’s back always draw attention.  Steve riffles through his wallet, pulls out a beaten up old copy of Max’s ‘Business card’ that explains his history.  As usual it’s met with smiles of understanding and a flurry of questions about their service in the Navy.  It’s another fifteen minutes until they say goodbye.  Steve spots a fruit stall nearby and heads for it, a reluctant Max in tow. Keeping his head down he reaches his target and lets out a relieved breath. 

Telling people Max’s story, how he got the scars on his back, is second nature to him now. But today it’s the last thing he wants to talk about it.  Maui feels like a lifetime away from Afghanistan.  He wants to keep it that way.

Pulling his wallet out he pays for a pineapple and a bunch of bananas.  Finding another spot in the shade he keeps one eye on the entrance of the store as he breaks up a banana for Max.  As Max wolfs his way through it Steve pulls out the business card again.  The picture on it - Max with a tennis ball gripped between his teeth - must be at least two years old.  The inscription on the card is still just as relevant though:

_My name is Max._

  1. _I was hurt serving my country but I’m okay now._
  2. _My skin doesn’t hurt – I love strokes and cuddles._
  3. _Please don’t feed me junk food – it really makes me fart._



Steve considers the picture again, showing it to Max.  “Time for a change, buddy?  Maybe one of those unicorn shots?  Grace would love that.”  He laughs as Max barks and sits upright.  “Yeah, I know.  It’s Gracie, right?  But a guy’s gotta have some pride.”  Max huffs and slides back down, his attention on the remains of the banana.  Chuckling, Steve puts the card away. 

Keeping one eye on the front of the store he sits back to wait for Danny.  The parking lot is busy, it’s mostly tourists, judging by their clothing.  Most of them are retirement age.  Grace has got another four weeks of school before they break for the summer.  It’s a good time to visit the island, before it gets too busy.

Steve’s about to get to his feet and go find Danny when a car pulling in catches his eye.  It’s different from the others in the parking lot: bigger, expensive, not really designed for the tight winding roads of Maui.  Black with tinted windows, the glass has a dull sheen that suggests its toughened, maybe even bullet-proof.   Steve’s brain perks up with interest, even as his gut instinct is telling him to look away.

When the passenger gets out he wishes he’d listened to his gut.

Steve ducks his head down, his heart thudding in his chest.  The passenger is John Barber, ex-Green Beret and now the owner of the largest security firm in the Pacific Islands.  They’ve met before.  Steve has no wish to meet him again.

“Steve!  Let’s go!”

_Damn._ Danny’s walking towards the jeep carrying shopping, his free hand raised in a wave.  Barber’s just a few feet away from him.  Barber casually glances back, to see what Danny’s looking at, then slows, his eyebrows joining in a frown.

Max whines, his tail banging on the sidewalk as he spots Danny.  Steve ducks his head again but Barber’s turning in his direction, his frown growing along with a look of recognition.

_Shit._

Steve gets to his feet, working out his options.  Danny’s stopped at the jeep, his confusion obvious.  Steve squares his shoulders and starts walking.  It’s been a few years since he met Barber, with any luck he’ll think he’s mistaken and walk away.

Steve’s wrong on both counts.

He comes to a halt as Barber intercepts him.  There’s a few things he could say to the man but none of them are repeatable in public.  He sure as hell doesn’t want to have to explain anything to Danny.  The remembered humiliation of his last encounter with Barber is something he never wants to share.

Not even with Danny.

“McGarrett?  I thought that was you.”  Barber stops in front of him, just feet away. Slowly he looks Steve up and down.  “You’re looking…better.”

Steve can tell Barber’s not working - he’s not wearing his signature black suit and white shirt.  But he’s still oozing money and ‘don’t mess with me’ arrogance.  The red tee-shirt he’s wearing is Gucci - the name is printed in gold across his chest.  The cut of his khaki pants suggests they are supposed to be baggy but they’re still pulling at the waist.  It looks like he’s put on thirty pounds since they last met.  He stinks of expensive aftershave, his short greying hair is slicked back with a sharp, precise side parting.  The heavy gold bracelet on his wrist clinks as he talks.

How the hell had he ever got himself mixed up with this guy?

Steve takes his shades off. “Barber,” he nods, returning the body scan.  “Looks like success is agreeing with you.”

If Barber understands the jibe he shows no sign.  He grins, a big warm reassuring grin that’s he perfected over the years for clients.  Steve knows better.

“I heard you were working out of Honolulu.  You here on a job?”

“Vacation.”

“Ah.”  He nods but Steve can see Barber’s still thinking.  He braces himself for what he knows is coming next.

“Hey, weren’t you looking after that actor…what was his name?”

“Tremaine.”

Barber clicks his fingers.  Steve resists the urge to grab one and twist it back.  “Tremaine!  That’s it.  Bad news that, makes it look bad for all of us.  Hate working with celebrities myself.  Never can trust them.”  Barber stops as if he’s considering something.  “You know, if your team are looking for work they can always call me—"

“We’re good,” Steve jumps in, needing to stop the conversation.  He’s struggling not to punch Barber in the face.  And out of the corner of his eye he can see Danny approaching.

”Sure.  Well, good to see you, McGarrett.”  Barber dismisses him with a wave of his hand and another false grin.  Turning he heads back to his car, passing Danny and Max on the way.  For a second he falters, his gaze fixed on Max, then he carries on walking.

Steve sags with relief.

“Anyone I should know about, babe?” Danny asks, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back.

“Competitor,” Steve replies, his gaze still fixed on Barber.

“Okay.”  Danny’s tone promises questions in the future.  Right now though his gaze follows Steve’s.  Barber’s going into the General Store.  He’s got two men with him and even from a distance it’s obvious they’re packing guns under their jackets and wearing ear pieces.  “Has he got his own little entourage?”

“Maybe.”  Steve squints at the two men, wondering if he’ll recognise them.  He doesn’t but the way they hold themselves is familiar.  And it does look like Barber is their protectee.

“Isn’t that kinda strange?”  One hand shading his eyes, Danny’s checking out the men too.

Steve processes the question.  He’s heard rumours about Barber, about the jobs he’s been accepting, the people he’s been working for.  He’s not surprised.  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, taking the grocery bag from Danny before he can protest and heading for the jeep.

_We’re on vacation_ , Steve reminds himself as they get back into the jeep.  This weekend, it’s all about him and Danny.  _Especially_ Danny.

He hasn’t got time to waste on a jerk like John Barber.

H50H5050H50H505H0

“Where are we sleeping?” Danny considers Grace’s question as he swaps the phone to his other ear. “It’s a cottage, monkey. In a forest,” he tells her, stepping out on the lanai to check the view.”

“Like Snow White?”

“Better,” he says, learning against the balustrade to admire the scenery. “I bet Snow White didn’t have cows in the back yard.” On cue the cows in question moo loudly. Several of them are lining up along the paddock fence. Max is studying them from the safety of the lanai. The cows study him back with huge, doe eyes.

Grace giggles, making him grin.   “Are you going to milk them?”

“No.  We’re not going to milk them.”  He raises his voice just a little bit as he hears footsteps advancing on him from behind.

“Spoilsport,” Steve whispers in his ear. A warm, slightly damp hand snakes around and under Danny’s t shirt. They’ve both just showered and changed.

“Steve!”

Danny flinches, almost deafened by Grace’s excited squeal. He pulls the phone from his ear with a wince. “She wants to see pictures from this morning,” he explains, handing the phone over to Steve.

Steve takes it then gets his own phone out and starts scrolling through screens.  He listens  intently while sending Grace the pictures he’d taken. There’s a pause while she checks them, then Steve nods and asks her something, his forehead crinkling up in concentration.

Danny taps him on the hip to get attention. Steve looks up, worried. _Goof_ , Danny mouths back, slowly. Steve’s answering smile is blinding.  Danny feels like a million dollars as he goes inside to fix dinner.

The cottage is actually a studio – one big room with a bed and kitchen and a shower off to one side. The furnishings are luxurious though.  It’s got a kitchen and shower system that Danny would kill to have at his place. As somewhere to spend their anniversary it’s pretty damn special.

He’d told Steve that when they arrived: the idiot had actually been worried that Danny wouldn’t like it. Danny had corrected that misconception with a lot of kissing. He’s pretty sure Steve’s got the message now.

The dinner of steak and prawns doesn’t take long to prepare for the barbecue. The only hindrance is Steve who thinks groping the chef is an Olympic sport. Danny bats him off with the grill utensils long enough to get the food cooked and they settle out on the lanai, cold beers by their sides.

The scenery out on the lanai really is amazing. Beyond the fields they can see the shore line, a blue expanse that blends into the sky. The sun is setting as they finish their dinner, deep orange hues replacing the blues. They’ve both tired from the journey, just happy to sit and listen to the cows chomping at the grass. So Danny doesn’t notice right away that Steve’s checked out on him.

It’s subtle at first.  Steve sounds tired, maybe distracted.  But gradually the gaps between his answers to Danny’s questions become longer.  His eyelids are at half-mast, his gaze fixed off in the distance.  In the shadows his face looks gaunt.

Danny lets him be at first.  Introspection, he tells himself, can be a healthy thing.  But then he remembers how Steve had looked his first week back from the hospital, how he’d spent long hours on the couch, brooding.  One day he’d started talking again but for that week Danny had felt useless.

He hates feeling useless.

Slowly he pushes himself upright and takes a long swig from his beer.  Max is sitting watching them, his eyes glowing demonically in the dark.  Danny shifts uneasily.  For a second he’s reminded that Max had a previous life.  He hasn’t always been the playful puppy that Grace fell in love with at first sight.

Danny clears his throat nervously, scrubbing his face with hand.  Steve blinks back at him in the half light.  Danny makes a mental note to find out who this guy Barber is when he gets back to Oahu.  Steve’s cage has been rattled – badly.  Everything points at Barber as being the cause.

Danny finishes his beer, then carefully puts the empty bottle on the ground.  Gathering up his courage he shuffles round on the lounger so he’s facing Steve.  “I’m not going to pry,” he says evenly, raising his hand to cup Steve’s jaw.  “I can see that guy pressed some buttons up here—"

 “Danny--”

“--I’m not going to pry,” he repeats, his heart clenching painfully as Steve’s expression hardens, shutters coming down in his eyes.  “I just need…”  Danny takes a deep breath and a mental step backwards.  He doesn’t want another argument.  Not now.  Not tonight.  He waits until Steve meets his eyes again.  There’s a hint of desperation in Steve’s expression, so many unspoken feelings in his eyes.

“Show me what you need,” Danny offers, dragging the words from his heart, putting everything he feels for this man into his words.  ”Don’t tell me.  Just show me.  Let me help.”

Their first kiss is tentative.  The second is harder.  Steve’s driving it with his body, all his weight pushing them back onto one lounger.  Danny goes with it, letting Steve pull him into his lap.  The position’s awkward – it’s been years since he’s been able to sit back on his calves properly like that -  but the payback makes it more than worth it.  Steve’s silhouetted against the sunset, the shadows picking out the bone structure of his face, making it look longer, meaner.

Danny groans into the kiss, chasing it with his lips and teeth.  Heat pools in the base of his spine as Steve licks the inside of his mouth, pulling him closer, weaving his fingers through the hair on the nape of Danny’s neck.

Steve grabs his ass, pulling him up, pulling him closer.  The angle’s still awkward but Steve’s taking some of his weight now.  Danny uses the advantage to grind his hips forwards, his lips flicking upwards as he hits his target.  Steve’s already hard inside his shorts- his hips snap forward in reply, drawing another groan from both of them.

“Danny,” he whispers, his lips brushing Danny’s neck.  “I’m sorry…I can’t..”

“Show me, babe.  Just show me.”

Danny wobbles, dizzy when Steve suddenly pulls him upright.  A strong arm catches him though, steering him towards the bed.  It’s a few, short steps to bed but it’s punctuated with kissing and warm, frantic hands that make Danny squirm with need.

When his back hits the mattress it’s a relief.  Steve thumps down on the mattress beside him, his hands already reaching back out, desperate to touch.  Danny lets him, spreading his arms wide, surrendering to the heat creeping up his spine.

Getting undressed presents a surprising challenge.  They’re both uncoordinated, their fingers like putty.  Steve swears under his breath as Danny’s shirt refuses to surrender and come off.  Danny slaps his hand away as Steve tugs at the material, stressing it dangerously.

“Animal,” Danny mutters under his breath, struggling into a sitting position long enough to shrug it off.  A strong hand plants itself on his shoulder, pushing him back down.  He resists, locking his elbows.  Steve groans with frustration.  “Clothes,” Danny demands, tugging at the t-shirt Steve is still wearing as he dots Steve’s face with kisses.  “Too. Many. Fucking. Clothes.”

Steve matches him kiss for kiss.  Danny goes with it, arching into each one, giving Steve the access he needs.  His anticipation builds as Steve works his way along his jawline, finally hitting the sweet spot below his ear.  Desire shoots down his spine, his cock stirring in response.

Desperate, he reaches for the zipper on his jeans.  Steve’s ahead of him, his fingers slipping in the top of his shorts.  Biting back a groan Danny hitches his hips higher, rewarded as Steve’s hand cups his ass cheek.  It slides lower, much lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, but it’s still not enough.

Seriously not enough.

Swearing, Danny tries to shrug his way of his jeans and underwear.  Steve’s arm clamps down across his hips.  Danny’s pretty sure he can get loose - take over - but that’s not how he wants this to go.  He rolls, gets his knees under him, starts laughing when Steve grabs his wrist, pulls him back.

“That all you got, babe?” he goads, as his head hits the pillow again, his hands pinned above his head.  There’s more kissing, all teeth, sharp and hard.  He can feel Steve’s erection through his jeans, straining to be freed.  Planting his feet, he jerks upwards.  Sparks shoot up his spine, right to his fingertips.

Unbalanced, Steve puts his hands out to save himself.  Danny laughs in triumph – he’s got his hands free.   Strong hands clamp around his hips before he can get away.  They disappear and suddenly his remaining clothes are being tugged away, taking him with them. The cool air on his aroused body is a welcome relief.  Shimmying back up the bed, he tucks his hands under his head and bends one leg. He grins as Steve freezes, one hand coming to rest on Danny’s outstretched leg.  

“ _Jesus_. Danny…”

Danny pounces, grabs Steve’s t-shirt, wrenching it over his head.  Steve slaps his hand away and raises a warning finger.  His eyes are dark with desire, his kiss-swollen lips pursed with intent.  Danny tells himself to breathe, just keep breathing as Steve pushes him back down into the mattress then kneels back to slowly undress.

In the half-light it’s clear Steve’s still a few pounds lighter than normal, his ribs more defined than before.  Danny blinks, trying to dislodge the thought.  _He’s okay_.  _He made it._   _I don’t need to worry any more._

“Danny?  You with me?”

He blinks again and Steve’s leaning over him.  Danny stares, taking in every detail.  Reaching out he traces his finger down his cheek, down until his hand is resting on Steve’s chest.  “I love you.”

The way Steve’s cheeks colour make Danny’s body perk up with interest again.  He leans in, chasing Danny’s lips, putting all his weight behind it. Then suddenly he slows, the kisses turning gentle and sweet.  _I know.  I love you too._

Danny indulges him, letting Steve adorn his chest with kisses, the occasional nip at his skin thrown in.  The anticipation is excruciating yet exhilarating at the same time.  This is Steve’s way of saying he’s sorry.  He knows exactly how Danny likes to be turned on.

Danny lunges, tucking one leg around Steve’s ankle and rolling him over.  Steve hits the mattress hard, making the bed springs creak.  Danny pushes home his advantage, putting his lower body weight on Steve’s inner thigh.  He groans in reaction, bucking upwards.  Danny applies more pressure, where he knows it’s going to work best.

His own erection is begging for more friction; it’s taking all his self-control not to move.  But all of a sudden this isn’t about giving Steve what he wants.  Now it’s about making this idiot understand what he means to him, how every time he wanders off into his own mind it hurts Danny to the core.  It’s about showing him the advantages of sharing feelings.

It’s about making him want Danny so much that he’ll never let him go.

“Danny…please…”

Steve’s pupils are blown wide with desire.  His bottom lip is caught between his teeth.  It’s obvious it’s taking all his self-control not to move. Danny closes his eyes against the image, willing his body to slow down.  He flicks his hips once, twice then opens his eyes again, rewarded as Steve throws his head back, a litany of curses coming out of his mouth.

Danny tries to block those out too: Steve’s voice is rough and gravelly, it’s sending spikes of desire down his spine.  He’s only partially successful, every word Steve utters is pushing them both towards the edge. 

He laves Steve’s chest with kisses, leaving the scarred skin to last.  As he edges closer, Steve’s cock twitches, then hardens, pushing insistently against his leg.  It’s his turn to swear as their erections rub against each other, their joined heat robbing his breath away.  He focuses on his target, kissing and nipping at the scar tissue, picking out the numb areas that he knows are surrounded by particularly sensitive flesh.

Steve bucks up with a yell and before Danny can stop himself he’s rolling.  Pillows cushion his fall as he’s pinned to the bed by Steve’s body, Steve’s hungry mouth invading his.

Danny’s world reduces to a sea of sensation, the smell and touch of the man he loves.  He rides with it, his growing arousal climbing to a peak.  It’s fast now, his breaths coming quickly in time to his heart beat.  Steve halts for a second and Danny swears, urging him on.  Then Steve wraps his hand around both their erections and Danny groans his encouragement, too lost in sensation to find the words to spur him on.

Steve’s answering groan acts like an aphrodisiac.  Danny arches up into the warmth between their bodies, instinctively finding a rhythm that will get them both off.  Everything dissolves into that sensation, chasing the orgasm they’re both teetering on the edge of.

Steve comes first with a loud yell, his body freezing as he tips over the edge.  Danny follows seconds later: Steve’s repeating his name with an intensity that makes everything falter then go white. 

When Danny opens his eyes again, Steve’s lying beside him, his eyelids at half-mast as he catches his breath.  Danny listens for a second – he can’t stop himself – then he tugs him over, rearranging them so Steve’s resting his head on his chest.  Steve’s pliant, unresisting, a soft sigh escaping as his eyes drift closed, his body relaxing into the bed.

Danny waits in the darkness, listening until Steve’s breathing evens out.  Then he lets himself go, closing his eyes and surrendering to his own exhaustion.


	4. Chapter 4

H50H50H50H50

The next morning the drive to the foot of the hiking trail takes nearly an hour.  Danny doesn’t care one little bit.  He’s slept better than he has for weeks, waking to soft sleepy kisses and Steve’s body intertwined with his.  Whatever was bugging Steve the night before seems to have resolved itself – at least for now.  Danny’s more than happy to count that as a win.  Getting up at the crack of dawn wouldn’t have been his first choice but Steve had been gently persuasive.  Max hadn’t been so subtle; Danny’s surprised the bed’s still got all its springs.

Danny’s never been able to deny either of them anything though, so here he is, at an obscene hour of the morning, hoping to beat the dawn rush of tourists (according to Steve).  Moments after they arrive though he’s starting to doubt his choices.  Jumping out of the jeep, he surveys the scene in front of him.  “That’s a mountain, Steve.”

“It’s not.” Steve drags his attention away from checking the backpacks they’ve bought with them  “It’s a…hill.”

“Back home we’d call that a mountain.  We’re on vacation, babe.  Va-ca-tion.  We should be sitting by a pool drinking fancy cocktails.  No,” he corrects, one arm raised so he can check his watch.  “Right now we could be ordering room service—"

Steve grins.  “Really?” Max is weaving excitedly around his legs.

Danny huffs, deflating.  “No.  Not really.” He turns back to survey the scene again.  “But seriously?  You couldn’t find something a little smaller?  I want to conserve my energy.  I got plans you know.”

“I got plans too,” Steve says, his face contorting as he hands Danny his pack.

“Did you just try and waggle your eyebrows at me?”

Steve hefts his pack on his shoulder and starts walking.  “You like it when I waggle.”

“Waggling won’t work on me,” Danny insists, following along behind.  “No, no winking either,” he adds as Steve looks back over his shoulder.  “You’re not gonna win me over—”

A ball comes flying towards him: Steve’s lobbed it back over his shoulder.  Seconds later Max skids to a halt in front of him, demanding Danny get with the programme.

“Low blow, Steven,” Danny mutters but he’s grinning as he launches the ball and follows them up the trail.

Maui is breath taking, Danny decides, twenty minutes later.  They’re still on a flat piece of track, easy on the legs and designed to cater for casual walkers.  But the plants and flowers are amazing, even better than on the hiking trails in Oahu.  In front of him, Steve and Max are in their element.  Max’s bark echoes off the trees as he bounds through the undergrowth to retrieve his ball.  Steve’s stride is easy, maybe a little slower than usual, but his breathing is steady, barely audible. 

Danny lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.  “What’s the plan?” he asks, speeding up to join him. 

Steve pulls a map out of his rucksack and Danny resists the urge to roll his eyes.  He’d wondered why Steve’s suitcase had been so heavy.  They’ve probably brought enough equipment to scale Everest.

“The plan is to follow one of these trails up to the waterfalls here,” he points out, following a pencil line drawn on the map.  “We’ll head east and go up the hill—"

“Mountain.”

“Okay,” Steve concedes with an easy grin.  “We’ll go up the side of the _mountain_ and then eat lunch”-- he pats his rucksack --“before we walk back down.  Three hours up, three hours down.  It’s not on the tourist tracks so it should be pretty quiet.”  He leans in to snatch a kiss.  “Good?”

Danny stretches up to meet him half way and grab another kiss, deeper this time.  “I can work with that,” he announces, grinning inwardly as Steve blinks back at him, his eyes wide.  “When we speak to Grace tonight I’m gonna tell her we scaled a mountain,” he announces, as they start moving again, their hands brushing as they walk side by side.  “A huge mountain with snow-capped peaks and polar bears—

“Penguins,” Steve says, seriously.  “They have penguins on top of mountains—”

“—We can work with that.  She loves penguins too—"

“—And maybe we should throw in a couple of dolphins—"

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, babe.  Everyone knows dolphins need water to survive.”

“Really?  You wanna tell me how the penguins made it to the top of the mountain?  ‘Cause if we’re shooting for biological accuracy then I’ve gotta tell you—”

“Hey.  I didn’t mention the penguins, you did.  You’re the Navy guy.  Didn’t they teach—"

"The _Navy_? What the hell has that got to do with..."

They banter back and forth comfortably as they walk.  The idea that penguins could walk to the top of the mountain is dismissed, as is the idea that they could hitch a lift.  Danny grins, tipping his face to the sun.  This is perfect he thinks.  Life can’t get much better than this.

Of course it doesn’t last. 

“Damn.  There’s a couple of trucks parked up there,” Steve announces, breaking into Danny’s thoughts.  “Thought we’d be early enough to beat the rush.”

“It’s just a few people,” Danny soothes.  “There’s more than one way to get up this mountain, right?”

“Yeah.”  Steve looks over at him doubtfully and then back the way they’ve come.

“Great.”  Danny tugs him by the arm to keep moving.  Steve’s not the only one craving peace and quiet.  “We’ll just change route if we need to.”

He’s relieved when Steve follows him.  But his heart sinks as they draw level with the trucks.  There’s three of them, all black.  Two are mud covered, they look like they’ve come cross-country.  The third one is Barber’s.

“What’s he doing up here?”

Steve’s walking towards the trucks before Danny can stop him.  With a sigh Danny follows along.  Max sweeps past him, tail held high.  Catching up to Steve he falls in beside him, matching him step for step.

“What does it matter?” Danny asks but he knows it’s a lost cause.  Steve’s looking back down the mud track the trucks had used to get there, a deep frown on his face.

“Only the locals would know how to get down here.  Why wouldn’t they have used the main parking area?”

“Who cares?  Come on, let’s go.  You promised me lunch and waterfalls and polar bears—”

Max whines.  He’s staring at the ground next to one of the trucks, ears and tail up.

“Steve, let’s—”

“He’s got a hit.”

“A what?”

Steve gestures impatiently.  “He’s trained to detect things, Danny.” 

“Okay.”  Danny watches as Steve hunkers down next to Max, patting the dog’s back reassuringly.  His brain’s gone blank about exactly what Max is trained to detect.  The word ‘explosives’ is flashing in his brain though - he’s pretty sure Steve had included ‘detecting explosives’ in the long list of things Max was trained to do. 

Steve stretches out on the ground next to the truck.  He peers underneath.  To Danny it seems like forever until Steve moves again, shifting to his knees, wiping his hands on his pants.   Danny’s about to suggest they get moving again when Steve freezes then slowly bends down to retrieve something.

Danny laughs.  Relief is making him feel giddy – it’s a cigarette butt.  Steve sniffs it.  “Eeew.  Put that down. You don’t know where it’s been.”

“It’s Russian.”

Danny stares at him then twirls his finger in the air.  “You wanna run that past me again?  How’d you know it’s Russian?  Don’t tell me Max was taught to sniff out cigarette butts because I’m pretty sure there are taxpayers out there who aren’t going to be—”

“What?”  Steve squints up at him, preoccupied.  “No!” He gets to his feet, his attention still on the trucks.  “I taught him how to do that,” he says, going over to the other truck and checking underneath it.  “Russian cigarettes,” he adds, registering Danny’s perplexed look, “The Taliban used to smoke them.  So where there’s cigarette butts—”

“There’s probably gonna be Taliban,” Danny nods.  Part of his brain is impressed at the ingenuity.  The other part doesn’t want to acknowledge why that intel would have been so important to Steve and his team in Afghanistan.  He shivers despite the heat.  “You know there’s no Taliban up here, right?” he says, as much to distract himself as Steve, who’s scowling at the offending item.  “It may have escaped your notice but Hawaii is a haven for Russian tourists.”

“Right.”  Steve’s still scowling as he surveys the surrounding area.  “Sure.”

“We can go somewhere else if you want,” Danny suggests, letting a hint of frustration break through.  They’d been having such a _great_ day.

Steve exhales and looks back at him.  The conflict he’s feeling is written all over face.  Danny runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing in a circle.  He’s got no damn idea why Barber has this hold over Steve because Steve won’t _tell_ him.  But right now all he wants to do is punch Barber’s lights out.

Maybe it is a good idea if they don’t meet on the trail.

H50H50H50H50H50H50H50

Steve keeps one eye on the trail in front of them and the other on the trees and bushes on either side of the path.  Max is trotting in front of him, his nose to the ground.  Danny’s walking behind him; he can feel Danny’s worry nudging at him like a physical thing.

Guilt washes over him.  He dips his head, focusing on the dirt and greenery.  Last night had been exactly what he’d needed – and the opposite of what he’d deserved.  He knows better than to let someone like Barber get into his head like that.  It was one of the first things he learnt in the Navy.

The path in front of them splits into two.  He slows as they approach it, hears Danny do the same.  In front of him Max halts, ears cocked as he watches him.  Steve checks the ground again and issues the command to move straight on.

“They gone?”

Steve jerks out of his thoughts and looks over his shoulder.  Danny’s staring at him, one eyebrow cocked.  Steve can feel his ears reddening.  He’s been tracking Barber and the others since they left the trucks.  There’s at least seven people and it had taken him a while to pick them all out: the earth is churned up and well-trodden.  At the junction they’d taken the other path.

“We’re good,” he confesses sheepishly.  “Sorry,” he adds quietly, letting all the tension he’s feeling flow out on a sigh.

A tap on the ass is the only reply he gets but Danny steps up beside him, matching him stride for stride.  Max glances back at them then speeds up too, his tail slowly wagging.

They’re good.  _They’re good,_ Steve repeats to himself _._ He hasn’t fucked this up.  _Yet,_ his traitorous brain adds unhelpfully.  He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought.

“You okay?”

Steve comes to a halt and considers the question for a moment.  He understands what Danny is asking.  He hates that it’s something he can’t give.  “Is there any chance at all we can go back to talking about penguins?”

Danny considers him for a long moment.  Steve’s heart sinks at the disappointment in his eyes.

“Penguins are out, babe,” Danny announces with a resigned shrug, turning and walking away.  “We’ve already agreed they’re not built for mountain climbing.  They’re vertically challenged,” he says, gesturing at his own legs.  “Only a sadist would make them climb up there.  Oh.  Hang on a second. What am I saying? You _are_ a sadist…”

Steve follows, letting Danny’s words roll over him, taking comfort in his fond mockery.  He’s an idiot.  Memories shouldn’t have the power to affect him like this.  He used to be very good at sticking them in a box.  Since Afghanistan that’s been getting harder.  Since _Danny_ it’s got even worse.

Steve’s not sure that Danny knows what he’s asking, just how much there is to come out. It’s been three years but some days he still imagines he can hear people speaking Pashtu and the air feels dry and slightly gritty, like the remnants of a sand storm are passing through. His memories are slowly leaking; it’s the only way he can describe it.  Danny’s asking him to turn the tap on.

He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to do that.

Steve’s jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of a gunshot.  It echoes around the mountain.  For a second he wonders if it’s memories overlapping with reality.  Then training kicks in and he spins round, checking out every bush and tree around them.  His heartbeat sounds louder than his breathing in his ears.

“Whoa.  Easy.  Easy, Steve.  It’s just someone hunting or—"

Steve flinches as a hand touches his arm.  He brings a fist up instinctively.

“Babe.”

Warm fingers wrap around his fist, barely touching.  Slowly he breathes in and out.  Blinking to clear his visions reveals Danny watching him, his eyes wider than Steve can ever remember seeing before.  The hand around his fist grips tighter.  A thumb gently rubs across his knuckles.  

More shots ring out.  It’s a rat-tat-tat noise.  Automatic gun fire.

Steve’s heart speeds up in time to the gunfire.  Beside him Danny swears and lets go of his hand  Danny’s moving before Steve can stop him.  Steve curses and follows him into the bush.

Tracking the sound in the valley isn’t easy.  They have to stop and listen several times.  When the gunfire stops the silence is almost as shocking as the sound.  They look at each other, the same question in their minds.  This gunfire, it might be nothing.  It’s on the tip of Steve’s tongue to say that.  But they both know something’s _wrong._

“Shit.”  Steve pushes in front of Danny.  Danny opens his mouth to protest.  Steve raises his finger to his lips.  They don’t know what they’re walking into.  There’s no way in hell he’s letting Danny go first.

Danny frowns but he follows in silence, Max close behind.   Now the shooting’s stopped they’re just relying on memory to guide them.  Steve pushes a path through the bush, feeling naked and exposed.  All they’ve got is their backpacks: their weapons are back in Oahu.  Small animals scamper through the undergrowth around them, every noise pings on his nerves.  It’s almost a relief when they reach a small clearing.  Steve raises his fist, signalling they need to stop.

From a distance the clearing looks empty.  Max growls low in his throat.

Steve creeps forwards, knees bent so he can just see over the bushes.  He can sense Max’s agitation without looking.  His heartbeat ramps up in response.  He and Danny might be able to convince themselves there’s nothing wrong but the German Shepherd is acting on pure instinct.  In Afghanistan it had saved their lives more than once.

He risks a quick glance over the top of the undergrowth.  His heart stops - misses a beat - then it starts up again, faster than before.  Barber’s bodyguards are lying in the clearing.  It’s the smell of blood that had got Max’s attention.

There’s no sign of Barber.

The bushes behind him rustle and Danny appears, Max crouched down beside him.  Steve raises his hand in warning – _Go back!._ Danny returns his glare, his lips pursed in a tight line _– I’m staying, get over it._

They stare at each other for a moment, a stand-off.  Then Danny pushes past him to look out into the clearing.  Steve sees the exact moment Danny realises how much trouble they’ve just walked into.  His face falls and then he collects himself, his expression hardening as he takes in the scene.

Steve makes space as Danny shuffles back again.  Crouching down, knees touching, he’s pretty sure they can’t be seen.  Pulling his backpack off he retrieves his cell phone.  He’s not surprised to find there’s no signal, he’d chosen this hike for a reason.  There’s still a flutter of hope in his belly though as Danny runs through the same check.  When Danny grimaces his stomach does a painful flip.

They’re on their own.

Danny’s hand brushes his knee.  He’s watching Steve closely, chewing on his bottom lip.  Steve runs his hand down Danny’s back, offering reassurance in return.  They’ve got options, he’s been in much worse situations than this.  But first they need protection.

Danny nudges him.

He raises his eyebrows, watching silently as Danny mimes a gun with fingers.  Steve nods, his lips quirking up in a weak smile.  They’re thinking the same thing. 

They need weapons.

Their thoughts on how they’re going to get them differ though.  Steve hands over his backpack, getting ready to run into the clearing.  Danny’s answering grunt is eloquent – _you’re going over my dead body_.  Max nudges his hand with his snout.

Steve bolts before either of them can stop him.

He weaves across the clearing, his body tensed for the gunfire he’s sure is coming.  His mind imagines mud spraying as bullets thud into the earth.  In reality its eerily quiet, just the sound of his feet thudding as he covers the ground.  He swerves around the first body then hits the ground, rolling.  Coming to a halt on his belly he strains to listen for unusual sounds.

Birds calling loudly, spooked by the gunfire.  The sound of his own heavy breathing, hitching as he exhales.

He’s clear.  Sparing a quick glance at Barber’s bodyguards, he retrieves their handguns and spare clips.  They’re dead but he’d known that as soon as he’d seen them.  Automatic weapons are designed to decimate flesh.  Whoever shot them wasn’t taking any chances. Giving the scene one last glance he runs back to the undergrowth.

Steve busies himself checking each weapon.  Danny’s radiating fury, his movements short and sharp as Steve hands over a gun.  Steve gets it; he’d be the same if the roles were reversed.  But they’re in his territory now.  And he’s not backing down.

Danny checks the gun himself, then tucks the spare clip in his pocket.  “You need to go back down and get help,” he announces as if they’re choosing where to go for lunch.  “I’m gonna follow these guys.  Take Max with you.  Once you’ve called HPD come back up and we’ll meet further up the track.”

Steve stares back at him, tightening his grip on the gun.  There’s so many things wrong with that plan he doesn’t know where to start.

“I’ve got jurisdiction.” Danny’s tone is even but Steve doesn’t miss the underlying hint of stubbornness.  “Barber’s missing.  And there’s a blood trail leading out of here.  Yeah, I saw that,” he adds, his expression hardening as he looks Steve in the eye.  “What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Steve straightens his shoulders.  “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”  He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, braces himself when Danny’s eyes flash with anger.

“Why’s that, huh?”  They’re keeping their voices low but Danny’s hiss cuts through the silence like a sharp knife.  “Who the hell is John Barber?”

Steve looks away, looks back again.  “He’s a security consultant.”  He forces the words out, swallowing against the lump in his throat.  This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen.  “High-end customers.”

“And?”

Danny’s anger is tearing his heart out.  “There’ve been rumours, okay?  He works in the high growth markets.  Chinese, Russians, Middle-East.  Eastern Europe.  He gets hired as their protection,” he adds when Danny raises his eyebrows.  “It looks legit from the outside, makes it look respectable.”

Danny nods, his attention turning inwards.  “So we’re talking drugs, sex trafficking?”

“Weapons smuggling.  Extortion.”

Danny studies him.  “You know this guy, right?”  Steve steels himself for the question he knows is coming.  The moment where he tells Danny just how he knows John Barber.  “So what do you think’s happened here?”

Steve blinks back at him.  He feels like he’s been teetering at a precipice and he’s just been dragged back from the edge.  _For now_ , he adds mentally, reading Danny’s face.  “Same as you, probably,” he forces out, licking his lips.  “He’s pissed someone off.  Russian organised crime,” he muses, thinking back to the cigarette butts in the carpark.

Danny nods, his attention drawn back to the clearing.  “So why not just kill him?”

Steve hefts his gun up and checks it one more time.  “Because that’s not what they do,” he grinds out, flexing his thigh muscles to get his circulation going again.  He’s met these kind of guys before, in a different time and place.  If Barber’s crossed them they’ll want their pound of flesh.  They haven’t got much time. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!  I told you already, we’re—”

“No.”  Steve shrugs off Danny’s restraining hand.  “I can’t go back down because I can’t run all that way.”  He taps his chest.   “I can’t,” he repeats, more to himself than to Danny, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.  “And I won’t make it back.  There’s no way I’m leaving you here on your own,” he adds as Danny opens his mouth to argue.  “So you’re stuck with me.  Both of us,” he corrects as Max whines.

“Steve—”

Steve cuts him off with a wave of his hand.  “I know you’re HPD.   The best cop I know,” he adds softly, letting the pride he feels colour his words.  “But this is what I do.”  _What I used to do,_ he thinks, pushing himself to his feet.

Danny considers him for a moment before standing up.  “It looks like they’re heading for the top of the mountain.”  He secures his gun and backpack.   “Why?”

Steve shrugs his own pack on.  He’d been wondering the same thing.  “They need a way off this mountain.”

“And some way to communicate,” Danny adds as they carefully make their way back into the clearing.  “We’re not the only ones without a signal.”

“Satellite phone might work, if they’ve got one,” Steve points out, kneeling down to check the blood trail out of the clearing.  Rolling back on his heels, he checks out their surroundings again.  “Coverage would be patchy.”  In his experience jungles were great places to hide.  But people always underestimated how difficult they were to survive in.  Chewing his lip, he checks out the area again.  “What I don’t get is why they didn’t just go back down to the trucks?  Unless they got trucks stowed somewhere else?”  He runs the map back through his mind.  “That’d be one hell of a hike…”

“Or maybe this wasn’t their plan at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Danny gestures at the clearing.  “Sound carries, right?  I mean, look how much noise we were making.“ He glances over at Max.  “If you were planning a hit up here, would you use automatic weapons?”

Steve considers the question, his gaze fixed on the dead bodies.  Danny’s asking him for his professional opinion.  It doesn’t sit well with him, not here and now.  “There’s lots of ways you could take them out without alerting anyone.”

“And these guys would know how to do that, right?”

Steve raises his head, looks Danny straight in the eye.  “Yeah.”

“So these guys might be spooked, looking for a way out.”  Danny ~~s~~ moothes his hair with both hands.  “Great.  Just great.”  He takes a breath, then another one.  Pacing a few steps, he reaches out and strokes Max’s head.  “Okay,” he huffs out loudly.  Coming to a halt in front of Steve he holds out his hand.

Steve takes it, tightening his grip as he gets to his feet.  He pulls Danny close, one eye still on their surroundings.  Danny’s lips are dry, slightly salty tasting under his.  He licks them, deepens the kiss, following as Danny pulls him in, desperate and hungry.

Steve’s breathing is heavy when he pulls away.  Danny’s isn’t much better.  They stare at each other for one more moment before hitching up their backpacks and heading out, Max taking point as they follow the blood trail. ~~~~

H50H50H50H50

Danny shrugs his backpack up higher, grimacing at the sweat pooling on his back.  The thick undergrowth around them doesn’t look so pretty now.  They’re heading into thick jungle, the canopy of the rainforest starting to block out the light.  On the positive side the temperature’s dropped a few degrees.  On the negative side anyone could sneak up on them.

Steve’s a few paces in front of him, his attention totally focused on their surroundings.  He’s carrying his handgun, his finger stretched out over the trigger.  Danny’s doing the same.  They’ve been communicating using hand signals.  He’s grateful he already speaks _‘Steven’_ ; some of the signals aren’t out of the HPD SWAT handbook.

 _Surreal_ , Danny thinks as they pause again to listen.  A few hours before he’d been trying to decide if the shower would fit both of them: he’d got plans for after the hike.  Now all he wants is for them to get off this mountain in one piece – and celebrate with an ice cold beer. 

The harsh buzzing of radio static cuts into the silence.  It’s not that close, somewhere up in front of them.  Danny drops to the ground, gun raised.  Steve lunges forward, grabbing Max back, then hits the ground too.  Inches apart, they listen as the noise cuts out, replaced with a male voice.

The man’s got a thick accent, he keeps swapping from English to something Slavic-sounding.  Danny shakes his head, catching only a few words.  The name ‘Barber’s’ mentioned a few times.  There’s another name that Danny’s brain latches on to but it’s fleeting, lost in the mush of sound.  Across from him Steve’s frowning, he’s listening.  When another voice comes on the radio he purses his lips, clearly agitated.  Staring straight at Danny he raises a finger, telling him to wait.

Danny’s legs are starting to cramp from discomfort, he has to force himself to not move as soon as the voices move away.  Beside him Steve flexes his hand on his gun grip but the rest of his body is still.  It’s a few more minutes before they finally move but even then it’s just to hunker down on their heels.

“Russian,” Steve whispers in Danny’s ear, making him shiver.  “And they know they’re not up here alone.”

 _Fuck._ “How the hell do they know—”

Steve jerks a thumb in Max’s direction.  Max blinks back at both of them, his head tilted to one side.  “They’re gonna think it’s tourists who have gone back down and raised the alarm.  That gives us the advantage.”

Danny nods, absorbing that information.  “Barber?”

“They’ve got him.  Sounds like they’ve split up though.  Something about the other group going ahead?”  Steve shakes his head, frustrated.  “My Russian’s rusty.  But someone’s really pissed off with him.”

Danny files away the fact he didn’t know about Steve’s language skills.  There’s a very long list of things they’re going to talk about once they get out of this shit-fest.  “Any idea how they’re planning to get out of here?”

Steve scrubs at his face, then surveys the area around them.  “Nothing.  I still think they’ve got to head for the top of the mountain.  They would have turned back by now.”

“So…what…they got a helicopter?”

Steve chews at his bottom lip, one hand reaching out to rub Max behind the ears.   “Maybe.  How else would you get out of here?”

 _No idea,_ Danny thinks but keeps silent.  Stating the obvious isn’t going to help at all.  From the worried look on Steve’s face they need to get moving.  But there’s something about the overheard conversation that’s bugging him.  “Did those guys mention a name?  Bearatrosky, Beskavosky, something like that?”

“Berezovsky,” Steve offers. His worried face turns into a scowl at Danny’s reaction.  “You recognise it?”

Danny runs his free hand through his hair, getting to his feet with a grimace.  “Yeah, I know him.  Alexander Berezovsky.  Works out of New York.  Some people are calling him the new mafia.  He’s a self-made millionaire with banking operations all over the world.  But word on the street is he’s been making some different kind of deals, taking over the old territories.  You name it, he’s into it.  Girls, drugs, money laundering--.  What?”

“Barber and his team have been working out of New York.”

Danny waits as Steve gets to his feet, his expression closed.  “Well your buddy has just bitten off more than he can chew,” he says, pulling his backpack straight again.  “I’ve got a friend who works homicide in New York.  They’re all pulling overtime to keep up with the body count from Berezovsky’s activities.  These guys, they’re playing for keeps.”

Steve considers the information, then checks his gun.  “We’d better get moving before they add to the body count some more.”


	5. Chapter 5

H50H50H50H50

Danny takes a deep breath, then another, trying to keep his anger and worry under control.  The hairs on the back of his neck are bristling, sending goose-pimples across his skin.

They’ve easily caught up with Barber and his captors: Barker’s taken a bullet to the leg, it’s slowing them down.  The men with him are getting impatient, yelling at him to move.  There’s been more heated radio conversations, confirmation there were more people up ahead. 

Steve’s decided they need to make their move and rescue Barber.  Two people, he’d reasoned, they could handle.  They couldn’t afford to be discovered by whoever else was up there.  In Danny’s professional opinion Steve’s plan has more holes than Grace’s first attempt at knitting.  Arguing is difficult though when you’re trying to keep your voice down and not attract the attention of heavily armed men.

Steve’s wearing a mulish expression.  His eyes are shuttered, expressionless.  Danny gets what’s happening.  HPD tactics aren’t going to work up here.  He doesn’t have to like it though.  He scowls a bit more before nodding his agreement.

Relief flashes across Steve’s face and then it’s gone.  He scrapes at the ground with his boot, obliterating the diagram he’s drawn in the mud.  Checking his gun, he tucks it in the back of his pants, between the rucksack and his back.

Danny swallows down his worry.  He’d like the gun to be more accessible.  Instead he nods, tucking his fingers under Max’s collar.  The dog’s trembling, sensing the need to move.  Steve reaches down and strokes him.  Then he pauses, his hand cupping Danny’s chin.  “Back in five,” he mouths, then he’s gone, crouching as he disappears into the shadows. 

Danny hunkers down in the undergrowth with Max like Steve’s instructed them to do.  Crawling to the edge of the trail he waits.  He understands the value of good backup but he’d do anything right now to be up there with Steve.

Danny’s stomach rumbles, reminding him they’d had plans for lunch.  He ignores it and strains to listen for Barber and the men with him.  It’s difficult to pick out individual sounds though, they’re close to the waterfall that Steve had planned to hike to.

Barber and the men are further up the track, walking in single file, Barber sandwiched between the men.  Barber’s staggering, limping on his injured leg, his arms bound together with tape.  They’re so far away that Danny has to squint to make them out.  At first he doesn’t register the dark shape slipping out of the shadows behind them.  Then it forms into a Steve-sized shape and the man at the back jerks backwards, dragged into the undergrowth.

Barber falters, looks over his shoulder, then Steve’s there again, pushing him into the undergrowth.  Danny takes that as his signal, sprinting across the trail and back into the undergrowth on the other side, running as fast as he can over the uneven ground to get to Barber, Max following behind.

Barber’s down on the ground when Danny reaches him, his body curled in a defensive pose.  He raises his bound fists as he sees Danny.  Recognition crosses his face when he sees Max.

“We need to get out of here,” he demands as Danny gets him upright.

_Ungrateful bastard._ Danny braces himself, takes his weight.

Steve’s instructions had been clear, they need to get to the waterfall, there’s an overhang underneath the cliff they can hide in.  Max is to stay with Danny: Danny’s going to have his hands full with Barber.

And Steve?

Steve’s on his own now.  Danny grits his teeth and gets moving.  Adrenaline’s flowing through his veins, screaming at him to go back.  This is the part of the plan he hates.  Dragging them back to the edge of the undergrowth, Danny looks back over his shoulder – and his heart stops.  He’s been in situations where he’s had to defend himself with his hands.  But it’s never been life and death. 

Like the fight Steve’s in now.

Danny falters, takes a step back.  He’s stopped by Barber’s weight pulling him the other way.  “Don’t.  Let him finish him.”

Danny pulls away, his face twisting in a snarl.  “Fuck you.”  He pulls his gun, running back up the track.  Steve had said no guns – they’d give away their position – but Danny flicks the safety off anyway.

Danny halts on the track, takes aim, curses as he realises he can’t get a clean shot.  Steve and the man are evenly matched, trading blows that hit their mark.  It’s not like the fight sequences in the movies, there’s no artistic, athletic moves.  This is rough, dirty, grunts of pain interspersed with the raw sound of flesh hitting flesh.  Steve doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes shuttered, his expression blank.  He’s focused on only one thing: surviving this fight.

Danny’s brain stutters at the knowledge.  He takes a step back.  Steve’s eyes shift, meet Danny’s and he falters.  Steve pays for his lack of concentration, his body buckles as he takes two blows to the kidneys.  His head snaps sideways as that’s followed up with a blow to the head.  He almost goes down.  Almost.  Instead, Steve turns the stutter into a duck and jab, boxing-style, coming in low.  Then he’s up again, landing blows in a pounding rhythm, harder than before.

Danny turns and runs, biting back a yell.  The memory of Steve’s emotionless expression follows him as he grabs Barber, ignoring the man’s grunts of pain as he jolts his injured leg.  Max bolts in front of them and then runs back the way they’ve come, agitated.  _We’re not leaving him,_ Danny promises silently as he drags Barber down the path towards the waterfall.

They’re almost to the waterfall when they hear another voice speaking Russian, high-pitched, panicked.  It’s followed by a squawk of radio static but before Danny can react a man leaps out of the bushes, knocking him to the ground. 

Winded, Danny sees stars.  He’s still got his backpack on, landing on it has knocked all the air out of his lungs.  Max is growling from somewhere off beside him, it’s enough to send Danny’s fight instinct into overdrive.  He gets his hands and feet moving, jamming them between him and the man who’s trying to pin him to the ground.  Bending his knee, he uses his leg as a lever, getting his foot in the man’s crotch and kicking hard.

Danny rolls as the weight on top of him disappears.  In the scuffle his gun’s been thrown to the edge of the waterfall.  Danny scrabbles to reach it, still winded, struggling to get air in.  There’s yelling behind him and he looks over his shoulder.  Max is in defence-mode, head down, haunches up, his fangs flashing as he growls.  It’s enough to slow the Russian down. 

Danny pushes himself to his feet, stumbling towards the waterfall.  He’s almost there, just inches from his gun, when a shot rings out and Max yelps behind him, a high pitched, heart-wrenching sound.  Instinct has Danny turning: he has a second to register Max sprawled on the ground, then the Russian is on him, his hands clamping around Danny’s throat.

Danny breaks the lock but it’s taking both hands and all of his strength.   His gun’s still lying useless on the ground.  Movement to his left draws his attention: Barber’s crawling towards them, his injured leg dragging behind him, his face scrunched in pain.  Danny reaches deep, drawing on every ounce of energy to get his legs under him, preparing to lever his body off the ground. 

Danny releases one hand, makes a fist then punches hard.  He connects with the Russian’s windpipe, feels the soft flesh give against his knuckles.  The grip around his neck tightens for a second and then is gone.  Danny digs his heels into the earth and rolls, heaving himself to his knees.  Diving for the gun he grabs it with shaking hands, aims—

\--and the world spirals, the sky and the ground swapping places as he’s pushed over the edge of the waterfall.

H50H50H50H50H50

Steve falls to his knees.  Every breath feels like fire in his lungs.  The man he’d been fighting is sprawled on the ground in front of him, his head lying at an unnatural angle.  It had been close, _so damn close._ His body doesn’t know whether to pump out adrenaline to celebrate or withdraw it and let him pass out.

For a second all he registers is the muddy, trampled earth in front of him.  Then reality comes back in a rush.  Staggering to his feet he curses as the world spins sideways. _Gunfire!  Danger!_ Steve’s instincts are yelling at him.  _Find cover!_ All his brain can focus on is one thing: “Danny!”

Giving away his position when there are hostiles in the area is suicidal.  But there are other emotions kicking in.  He starts back down the track, coughing as he calls on his lungs to work even more.

There’s a bark and then another; Steve’s stomach plummets with relief.  He follows the sound, using the trees to help him balance as he slides his way down the mud track that leads down to cliff’s edge.  It’s Max who he sees first, sitting at the top of the waterfall.  There’s someone stretched out on the ground beside him.  Steve’s heartbeat speeds up then rockets skywards.  It’s not Danny – it’s Barber and he’s leaning forward, his injured leg tucked under him, his bound arms stuck out over the edge.

“Danny!”  Steve drops to the dirt next to Max, dreading what he’ll see.  Leaning over the edge makes the world spin again, but he forces himself to focus, to _think._

Danny’s stuck on a ledge a few feet down from where they’re standing.  His face is scratched and dirty but Steve’s relieved to not see more blood.  Danny’s hanging onto another ledge just above him, his shirt bunching around his shoulders as they take the strain. Beyond him, down at the bottom of the waterfall, there’s a sprawled, mangled body.

Steve pushes Barber out of the way with a grunt of impatience.  Dropping to his belly he wriggles to the edge of the waterfall, leaning over as far as he dares.  “Grab my legs,” he orders Barber, not looking back to check if he’s heard.  Suddenly there’s weight on his lower body, giving him enough confidence to lean over the edge with both arms.

“Come on,” he urges Danny, grabbing hold of one of his hands.  It’s wet and slippery but he grips on with everything he’s got.  He tenses, taking Danny’s weight, forcing himself not to panic as his chest compresses into the hard ground.  Danny’s other hand is still inches away from his.  Steve stretches, feels his spine pop, wills every inch of his six foot frame to go further.  It seems like forever before Danny grabs on, then through sheer will and brute force he pulls Danny up far enough that he can lever himself back over with his feet.

They collapse on the ground, a muddle of arms and legs.  Steve kicks Barber away from him and drags Danny further away from the edge.  Steve ignores the harsh sound of his own breathing, focuses on listening for the sound of Danny’s instead.   _I’m gonna get him out of here, Gracie.  I promise._

Danny rolls onto his knees, still panting hard.  “Check Max,” he orders, pushing Steve in Max’s direction.  “The gunshot…Max was going for that guy and there was a gunshot…”

_Shit._ Steve scrabbles over to the dog and starts checking him.  The fact that Max sits still despite being prodded, doesn’t reassure him.  He’s seen Max do exactly the same under incoming mortar fire.  An initial sweep of his body reveals nothing.  Closer inspection reveals a small gun powder burn on his ear.

Max had been just inches away from a bullet to the head.  Steve grabs him by the collar, buries his face in his fur.  He closes his eyes against the heat in them, breathes in, swallowing hard.

“Is he okay?” Danny asks from the other side of the clearing.  When Steve nods Danny rolls onto his back, wincing as his shoulders hit the dirt.  “Next anniversary, we’re going to Disney World,” he announces to no one in particular, then giggles, snorts of laughter punctuated with shallow breaths.

Steve scoots over with Max in tow, then starts checking Danny for injuries inch by inch.

“I’m fine.  Really,” Danny insists, knocking Steve’s hands away.  “Just glad we’re both alive,” he adds around a groan, pushing himself back up.

Steve keeps checking, he can’t help himself.

“Hey.  Hey!”  Danny bats his hands away again.  Frowning, he runs his fingertips over Steve’s temple, gently tracing over the skin.  Steve jerks back, wincing as they find a tender spot.  Danny’s fingers are covered in blood, he notes vaguely.  Now he thinks about it, he has got a headache building up.

“Gimme your pack.”

Danny clicks his fingers.  He’s looking at him like he’s asked the question before.  Steve shrugs off his pack, wincing as he moves his shoulders.  He’d forgotten he was wearing it. The straps have dug into scarred skin where he’d rolled on it during the fight.

Danny pulls out the contents, his movements slow, like he’s trying not to jar anything.  Steve’s about to call him on it when Danny huffs, his face scrunching in a worried frown.  “Looks like your phone might be broken.  Your inhaler too.” He roots around some more, his expression brightening as he pulls out a bottle, food box and cutlery.  “We’ve got a bottle of water and whatever you made us for lunch.”

Steve quashes the concern about the inhaler; he’s not planning to be on the mountain much longer.  The phone wasn’t working anyway.  Water’s a bigger problem though, they can’t drink the water in the river here.  Luckily he’d got a contingency plan.  Danny’s pack has got water, his phone and the first aid kit.

“Sorry, babe,” Danny says as if reading his mind.  “My pack’s down the bottom of the cliff.  That guy…he um…he tried to grab hold of it as he went over…”

_The straps snapped and he went down,_ Steve finishes silently, pulling Danny close.  Danny’s starting to shiver, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing is damp and covered in mud.  Steve tucks him in closer, rubs his hand up and down his back, trying to get some warmth in him.  Their spare over-shirts had been in Danny’s pack too.

“If you’ve finished checking out each other’s boo-boos can we get going?” Barber snipes, from his seat by the waterfall edge.  Lifting his bound arms he waves them impatiently. “Those bastards are getting away—"

Steve’s attention snaps to Barber.  Whatever expression he’s wearing, it’s enough to stop other man dead.  Jumping up, Steve stomps over, kneels next to Barber.  “Shut it.  We’re not going after Berezovsky’s men.”  Grabbing Barber’s arms he rips off the restraining tape. 

Barber winces, rubs at his swollen wrists.  “Why the fuck not?  They were going to kill me, McGarrett.  If we don’t get to them first they’re gonna kill both of us and your friend.  That was always your problem,  McGarrett.   You never had the balls to follow through to the end—"

Steve grabs his wrist, squeezing until Barber sucks in a pained breath.  “If anything happens to either of them,” he bites out, “I’m going to kill you myself.”

Getting to his feet, Steve doesn’t wait for an answer.  His heart is pumping like he’s run a marathon.  Wiping his hands on his pants he stomps back over to Danny.  “You need to eat,” he says, turning his attention back to the food box, opening it as he asks Danny what they are going to do next.

“Do?”  Danny’s gaze travels from Steve, to Barber and back. Absently he accepts the steak sandwich Steve offers him, takes a bite, studies both of them again. 

Steve chews fast on his sandwich, swallowing half of it down in one gulp.  The other half he throws over to Max.  “You were right.  This is your jurisdiction.  If it was mine HPD would find two bodies at the bottom of the waterfall.” 

Danny reaches out, rests a hand on his arm.  Steve closes his eyes, breathes deeply.  There’s a knot of anger that’s been simmering in his chest since yesterday: now it’s ready to explode.  _It had been close.  Too close._ The hand on his arm squeezes gently and he takes a steadying drag of air.  When he opens his eyes, Danny’s watching him.  He makes himself nod, manages a shaky smile.

Danny nods in return, the corner of his lips quirking up.  He takes another bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he considers Steve’s question.   “If we left him under the waterfall, in that hiding place you told me about, you could make it look like he wasn’t there, that he was with us, right?”

“Sure.”  Steve nods, seeing sense in what Danny’s suggesting. “It’d be crude but yeah, it would keep them distracted.”

“Long enough for us to get back to the bottom and call for help?”

Steve nods again.  They wouldn’t have Barber to slow them down.  Danny would be safe.

“I know you really want to go after those other guys, but…”  Danny trails off as Steve shakes his head.  He’s exhausted.  There’s no point pretending otherwise.  Danny doesn’t look much better.

“Great plan, boys.”  Barber’s mock-clapping them, his hands making no sound.  “Great plan.  So what are you going to do when the rest of the those Russians come down to check on their friends?”

Steve crosses the ground between them in two strides.  Grabbing Barber by the front of his shirt he hauls him upright.  “What the hell did you do?  If there’s something you’re not telling us—”

“That other guy.  At the bottom of the waterfall.  He radioed in.”

It’s Danny who’s interrupted, agitated, angry with himself.  Steve tightens his grip on Barber, shaking him just because he can.  “Someone want to tell me what happened?”

Danny swipes a hand through his hair.  “Before he attacked us, he was on the radio.  I didn’t understand, it was Russian—”

Barber snorts.  “He told them where we are.”

Danny glares at Barber, his hands raised mid-air.  “And it didn’t cross your mind to tell us you fu—"

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve cuts in, letting Barber go.  “We’ll still go with the plan.  If he’s lucky they won’t find him—”

“—But I’ll make sure they’ll find you.”

“What does that mean?” Danny demands, glaring at Barber, but Steve’s already moving.  Barber yelps as he’s dragged upright and slammed against the nearest tree trunk.  Steve tightens his grip as Danny tries to drag him backwards.  All he can see is red, bright red anger.  “It means that if the Russians capture him, he’s going to tell them who helped him.” 

 “Why the hell would you—”

Barber smirks: it’s sharp with no warmth at all.  “It’s amazing what you can find out when you have insider information.  You’re Detective Danny Williams, HPD.  You have a reputation for bending the rules to get things done.  What are your colleagues going to think when they hear you’ve been up here with Russian mobsters, that you let them have me—”

Danny’s fist connects with Barber’s face.  “You’re right, Steve.  We should have thrown him over the waterfall.”  Danny storms away, his fist tucked protectively under his arm.  He hunkers down next to the rucksack. Max sits next to him, worrying at his arm with his nose.

Barber’s curled on the ground, one hand cradling his face.  Steve nudges his injured leg with his boot.  Barber groans.  “Get up,” Steve hisses, leaning down to pull him up by his elbow.  He can smell the other man’s fear and sweat.  “You’re coming with us,” he orders, spelling out every word. “You’re going to follow every order Danny or I give you.  And I don’t want to hear a word out of you unless you’ve got eyes on Berezovsky’s men.”

Barber wipes his nose with the back of his hand: it comes away covered in blood.  He studies it for a second then meets Steve’s eyes.  There’s a flash of defiance, he lifts his chin.  Finally – grudgingly - Barber nods.

Steve lets him go, already thinking ahead.  He doesn’t need Barber’s agreement, he doesn’t trust the bastard anyway.  But he’s angry and it needs an outlet.  Making Barber cower has taken the edge off, at least for now.

Kneeling down next to Danny, he feels his anger flare again.  Danny’s got his head down, his shoulders hunched.  “How we doing?” Steve asks, softly, reaching out to stroke Max’s muzzle.

Danny raises his head slowly.  His expression is calm, resolute, determined, the anger of seconds before has gone.  This is the Danny he’d first set eyes on in a warehouse a year ago, the man who doesn’t back down, no matter how hard the fight.  

Danny gets to his feet, the pain he’s feeling written across his face.  “There’s a couple of guys in Internal Affairs who’ll be excited to meet this scumbag,” he says, raising his voice so it’ll carry over the roar of the waterfall to Barber.  “I’m really looking forward to making their day.”

H50H50H50H50   

They decide to head for the top of the mountain.  It’s not as far, they reason, so Barber should be able to make it with his injured leg.  They also have their first piece of good luck which helps them make the decision – they find a radio on one of the dead bodies.

Coverage is still patchy, the Russian team have been talking to each other using short-wave.  The only way they can guarantee a good signal is to go to the top of the mountain – and they’ll only get one shot at getting a message out.

Danny brings up the rear, Barber in front of him, Steve and Max taking point.  Steve had been reluctant about the order – he’d wanted to keep an eye on Barber – but Danny had insisted.  Steve’s the one who’s got experience at being in situations like this.  Max is their early warning device.  And if Danny were a betting man, he’d put money on Barber not running: he needs them to get the hell out of here. 

Several times Barber’s tripped and fallen, almost not made it back up again.  Danny’s thought about leaving him there.  Being threatened by people like Barber isn’t new to him.  He knows better than to rise to the bait.  Last time it had been Gonzales, during the case when he’d first met Steve.  But this time it hadn’t been Barber who had tipped him over the edge into anger. 

It had been the fear on Steve’s face.

Danny’s brought back to himself by a low thud-thud-thud sound approaching over the trees.  He looks up, trying to place it but Steve’s already grabbing him, pulling him off the trail.  Dragging Barber between them they fall to the ground, breathing heavily.  Danny risks a look up, sees the shadow of a helicopter fly over them, before Steve pushes his head back down.

“Reinforcements?” Danny mouths, feeling nauseous.  They’d _almost_ made it.

Steve nods, his lips turned down in a worried line.  He reaches into his backpack, pulling out the map.  Danny raises his eyes in question as Steve draws out a route with his finger then makes a spinning action in the air.

“We’re going for the helo,” Barber says, his voice rough.  It’s the first time he’s spoken since they left the waterfall.

“Hey,” Danny cuts in as Steve nods, his expression tight.  “I thought we were going to radio for help and lie low.”

Steve reads between the lines of his question. “We’ll wait for whoever is on the helo to evacuate then we’ll embark.  Staying up here with the extra men would be suicide, Danny.”

“We’re _flying_ off the mountain?”

“Yes.”  Steve frowns as Danny raises his eyebrows, catches on as Danny shrugs expansively.  “ _I’m_ gonna fly us off the mountain.”

Danny opens his mouth to ask a question, then snaps it closed again.  There’s no point asking him how long it’s been since he’s flown a helicopter.  He’s knows it’s a year at least. 

It’s another twenty minutes until they reach the top of the mountain.  Steve leads them through the undergrowth, stopping regularly to obliterate their trail .  Finally Danny feels sunlight on his skin: they’ve made it to the top.  Inwardly he feels like cheering.  The sight of the helicopter sobers him up.

It’s huge, military-class, nothing like the tourist choppers he’s used to seeing flying over Waikiki.  It’s landed at an angle, the cockpit pointed away from their position.  The rotor blades hang over it, like a giant umbrella.  It would have taken a skilled pilot to land it in the clearing; there’s only just enough space.  

A cold finger of dread creeps down Danny’s spine; the extra men they’d been expecting aren’t here.  Which means they’re already out in the jungle somewhere, behind them.  They’re trapped here on the top of the mountain.  He looks over at Steve, wondering what he’s thinking.  Steve doesn’t respond, his hooded gaze locked on the machine.

Finally Steve moves, to crouch down beside him.  He leans in close, his warm breath caressing Danny’s ear.  “I’m going in to check the situation.  I need Max.  You okay looking after Barber?”

Danny nods.  Steve’s tightly coiled, radiating energy.  How’s he generating it, Danny has no idea.  They’re both running on empty.  He wonders if this was how it was in Afghanistan, how often Steve had to pull himself back from complete exhaustion, to step up and meet another life and death situation.

Steve hands over the radio before shrugging off his backpack, hooking it over his shoulder.  His hand rests on Danny’s back for a second, warm and reassuring and then he’s gone, Max close behind him. 

Without Steve there the rainforest feels dark and threatening again.  Danny tightens his sweaty palm around his gun and waits.  It doesn’t reassure him that Barber looks as nervous as he feels, his eyes darting form the helicopter and back to the jungle.  Danny’s glad he’s the only one who’s armed.

His attention shifts as Steve appears on the edge of the clearing. Crouched low, Max is tucked close to his legs.  Steve signals with his hand and Max drops, only the tips of his ears sticking out over the grass.  Danny blinks and Steve’s disappeared from sight too.

Nothing moves for what seems an eternity.  Then suddenly Max is up again, galloping towards the helicopter.  Danny’s brain short-circuits, trying to process what it sees.  He’s been on his fair share of SWAT operations during his career as a police officer: this doesn’t look like ‘just checking out the situation’.

His suspicions are proved right as Steve jumps from the front of the helicopter: he must have climbed in from the blind side.  He hits the ground in a crouch, his gun raised.  The look he throws in their direction screams ‘ _fucking move!’_ so Danny moves.  Ignoring the burning pain in his shoulders he hoists Barber up.  Every step jars his muscles but he runs like his life depends on it.  _It does_ , he realises as a shot rings out from the other side of the clearing.

They’re out of time and luck. 

Steve returns fire, two shots in quick succession.  There’s a scream but it’s accompanied by multiple yells.  Standing up he lays down covering fire and Danny dives the last few feet, hunching down behind the helicopter.  The large doors on both sides of the cabin are open, he can see right through to the other side of the clearing.  The helicopter did bring reinforcements.  There’s at least five men returning fire – and they’re loaded up with artillery.

Danny shoves Barber up into the helicopter, putting all his weight behind the other man.  He scrabbles up behind him.  Bullets ping on the metal floor, making it vibrate.  Danny dives for cover, drawing his own gun.  “Steve!  We’ve gotta get out of here!” he yells, sticking his head out long enough to get off a few shots.  The men are advancing on the helicopter like mechanical soldiers, not flinching as the bullets fly. 

They haven’t got long.

Danny’s heart stops when Steve disappears from his line of vision.  He swears loudly when Steve reappears behind him, in the doorway.  He’s crawled under the helicopter, using it for cover. Steve says something to Barber then disappears again.  When he reappears Max is in his arms.  Ears back, tails between his legs it’s clear Max is not happy.

Danny doesn’t have time to think about it.  They’re taking fire again.  He loads a new clip, takes aim and fires.  Vaguely he’s aware of Steve clambering into the front of the helicopter.  Suddenly the rotors start whirling, slowly at first then faster.  The noise seems to energise the Russians, they push closer, more bullets pinging off the metal hulk. 

Ducking back Danny slides the cabin door closed.  Scrabbling across the metal floor he pulls the other door closed too.  His stomach lurches as the floor tilts and it takes him a second to realise they’re moving.  Grabbing onto the nearest bench seat he pulls himself upright.

Barber’s sitting on the opposite bench.  Max is lying on the floor, trapped between his legs.  The dog’s eyes look huge because his ears are still down, pinned back on his head.  Danny’s about to check him over when more bullets ping along the side of the helicopter.  Both he and Barber duck.

He’s about to stand upright when the helicopter tilts again.  They’re turning 180 degrees, shallow and fast.  The engine noise gets louder, the metal frame sounds like it’s shaking itself apart. Danny braces himself against the bulkhead, groaning as his shoulders complain.  The pressure against his body seems to last an eternity but finally they straighten up.  He lets out a breath, then another one.  Out of the side window he can see the rainforest  passing beneath them.  It’s a beautiful sight.   

Pulling himself across the loading bay he thuds down on the bench next to Barber.  Barber’s expensive looking polo-shirt is torn and muddy, he’s got bruising on his face and arms.  The arrogant bastard they’d met in the parking lot is still lurking – he meets Danny’s eyes, tries to stare him down – but then his shoulders slump with defeat and he looks away.  Danny experiences a moment of triumph but he’s got more important things on his mind.  Twisting sideways, he leans into the cockpit.  “What the hell happened to ‘I’m just looking’,” he yells, putting all his concern and love into those few words.

Steve looks back at him from the pilot’s seat, a frown on his face.  There’s more blood on his face, dribbling down to his chin.  He points at his ear and Danny notices he’s wearing a headset. 

Looking around he finds another set and puts it on.  “The plan, Steven.  We had a plan!”

Steve grins back at him: it’s all teeth, sharp and on edge.  “My friend here wasn’t happy to see me.”  He nods at the seat next to his.

Danny follows his eyes and recoils.  The pilot is slumped over the controls of the helicopter,  he’s got a puncture wound high in his back.  A steak knife from their backpack is lying discarded beside him, covered in blood.  He’s breathing, barely.

Danny swallows and drags his gaze away.  Down on the floor Max whines.  Danny grabs at the distraction, kneeling on the floor to check on Max.  His worry level shoots up as Max doesn’t respond to his touch.  The poor animal still looks terrified.

“He hates helos,” Steve’s voice tells him through the headset.  Danny gets back up onto his seat.  Steve’s turned his attention back to flying the helicopter.  Danny hadn’t missed the note of guilt in his voice though.  It crosses his mind to push for more details.  With a shake of head he concedes defeat.  There’s no point.  He already knows it’s something to do with Afghanistan. 

Everything always leads back there.

H50H50H50H50

Danny takes the stairs to the roof of the hospital one at a time.  Every bone in his body is aching, his torso’s covered in bruises.  His shoulders feel like he’s been doing windmills with his arms for hours – which in a way he kind of has.  The doctors kept them both in the Emergency Room for hours, checking them over.  They’d finally been released with painkillers and strict instructions to rest.  A few hours before he’d been dreaming about a cold beer and a shower.  Now all he wants is a soft, warm bed.

Not that he’d get much sleep, Danny thinks as he drags himself up the next flight.  His brain is a blur of images.  Violent images.  Surreal images.  He still has no idea how they’d got out of that alive.

The local police have finished interviewing Barber, he’s in custody now.   They’ve placed a guard outside his room and are waiting for reinforcements from Honolulu.  Danny isn’t surprised: this is way beyond anything they’ve dealt with before.  Privately he suspects the FBI and DEA will appear on the scene shortly, as well as Internal Affairs.  He doesn’t plan to be around when that happens.  But first he has to find Steve and Max.

Danny pauses at the top of one flight of stairs and looks upwards.  He’s got at least another two flights to go.  He could have caught the elevator from the hospital lobby but it had been busy, noisy, just too much for his brain to take in.  So he’d walked instead.

Both he and Steve had been interviewed by the police as well.  The hour that Steve had been gone for his interview had been the longest in Danny’s life.  He’d tried sitting quietly in the corridor outside but his mind had other ideas.  Discovering Steve’s beaten up phone still worked was a welcome discovery; calling Grace had calmed him for a few minutes.  But in the end he’d started to pace.  His body had protested at the movement but the short, tight circles stopped him from shouting, to tell anyone who was listening what a truly _fucked_ up day they’d had.

Max had watched him from under a chair, still anxious, jumping at every new noise and person who came past.  Danny had been end of his tether by the time Steve reappeared.  The thunderous look on Steve’s face hadn’t surprised him, he had pretty good idea the kind of questions that he’d been asked.  There are bodies up on the mountain, if this was his case he’d be asking some tough questions too.  

He’d been called in for his interview before he’d had time to check on Steve.  On the way in, in the helicopter, he’d managed to get a call through to Chin.  Sitting in front of the two stunned-looking police officers from Maui he’d been glad Steve had suggested calling ahead.  Sure, they want answers.  But Danny can’t help feeling they’re giving him the benefit of the doubt.   He’s not sure how long that’ll last for.  After the day they’ve had he’ll take any luck he can get. 

By the time he’d finished the seats outside the make-shift interview room were empty.  According to the nursing staff Steve has asked for somewhere he could take Max, where he wouldn’t be so agitated by the activity around him.  They’d suggested going down to the lobby but Danny could see why they wouldn’t work.  Battered and bruised, Steve would have taken Max somewhere quiet, secluded, somewhere he could regroup and get his head together. 

So Danny’s heading for the roof.

Danny flinches at the sudden onslaught of sunlight as he pushes the door to the roof open.  The concrete roof is acting like a sun trap, Danny can feel the heat through his boots.  Squinting, he checks out the people standing around at the roof edge: apparently he’s stumbled onto the unofficial staff smoking area.  

His heartbeat ramps up as a quick scan doesn’t reveal Steve or Max.  A second scan slows it down again.  Around the corner from the stairway he can see a pair of muddy hiking boots sticking out.

Steve’s sitting on the ground in the shadow of the stairwell, his legs outstretched.  Max’s head is resting in his lap.  He’s talking to the dog quietly, running his hand from Max’s nose to his ears in a steady, gentle rhythm.  His fingers are questing through the fur as he strokes him, checking every inch for lumps and bruises.  Max’s eyes are closed, his body stretched out behind him in total surrender.

In his left hand Steve’s holding a cigarette.  Tipping his head back he closes his eyes and takes a long drag on it.  Smoke curls into the air as he blows it out.  He repeats the routine again, then slowly opens his eyes as he realises he’s being watched.

“Hey.”  Steve’s voice reflects his exhaustion.  He winces as he shifts his legs, encouraging Max to sit up.  But the tired smile he conjures up is all for Danny: Danny knows this by the way his heart skips a beat.

“How you doing?”  Danny hunkers down beside them, reaching out to stroke Max as his tail thumps in welcome.

“We’re good,” Steve winces again as he shifts his legs.  “You?”

Danny uses the wall to guide him to the ground.  “Fantastic.”  His shoulders are aching like a son of a bitch.

“Excellent,” Steve sighs, resting his hand on Danny’s thigh.  He closes his eyes again.

Danny watches for a moment, frowning as he takes in every detail.  Max looks better, less like the scared, shivering animal in the helicopter.  Steve’s got dark smudges under his eyes that hadn’t been there that morning.  The pinched set of his mouth hints at the exhaustion he’s no doubt feeling.  He’s got another bruise on his temple – it had been the first thing Danny had insisted the doctors check out – but he looks more like _his_ Steve again.

Danny shivers.  His body’s signalling the familiar post-adrenaline crash.  The hand on his thigh tightens, pulling him closer.  He goes with it, leaning into Steve’s body as he puffs on the cigarette again.

Danny’s exhausted brain fixates on the smoke trails, tracking each one as it evaporates.   It’s surreal watching Steve smoke.  Steve’s actions with the cigarette are smooth and rhythmic, like everything he does.  But it grates with Danny’s image of him: fit, healthy, the man who drinks green smoothies for breakfast.

“Old habit,” Steve grimaces, as if reading his mind.  “Back in the day we’d get through packets of these things”.

_Bad habit,_ Danny’s inner voice scolds. _Your lungs are shot to hell._ He kisses Steve on the temple - being careful to not touch the bruise - then steals the cigarette for himself.  It tastes horrible – it’s been years since he’s smoked anything, he’d forgotten the awful taste – but the kick from the nicotine is welcome.  It might just be enough to get him off this roof.

Steve stubs the cigarette out on the ground with a practised twist.  Max eyes him then huffs again, getting up and shaking himself down.  Steve groans as he gets to his feet, leaning one hand against the wall as he gets upright. 

Danny refuses the helping hand Steve offers him, but once he’s on his feet he loops Steve’s arm over his shoulder then wraps his arm around Steve’s waist.  He’s not sure who’s holding up who but they’ve got at least one set of stairs to navigate before they get to an elevator.  It’s best to be prepared.

They weave their way down the first flight of stairs like they’re in a three-legged-race.  As they turn the corner for the elevator, the people waiting in the queue shuffle back.  Danny’s aware they’re drawing attention but he doesn’t have the energy to care.  By the time the elevator doors open the nicotine has worn off: they limp in and sag against the walls.

Down in the foyer they come to a halt.  Danny looks at Steve, hoping for some direction.  Steve stares back at him, glassy eyed.  Danny sighs, reclaims his grip around Steve’s waist and tugs gently.  Slowly they start moving again, Max plodding along behind.

_There’ll be a bed at the end of this,_ Danny reminds himself as they make it outside, the bright sunlight assaulting their eyes again.  Shading his eyes, he checks out the parking lot.  And then it occurs to him they’ve forgotten one very important thing. 

“We don’t have a car, babe.”


	6. Chapter 6

H50H50H50H50

_“Commander!  Steve…we need to get this off you…damn!”_

_Steve rears back from the pain, trying to get his feet under him.  His vision’s blurred, sweat dripping into his eyes.  He blinks, trying to focus.  It’s hot, so hot, it feels like his chest is burning from the inside out.  “Max…where’s…Billy…gotta talk to Billy._

_“You need to keep him still.   Whatever those bastards used, it’s burnt through his clothes.  For fuck’s sake don’t get it on you.”_

_“Billy…”  The surface underneath him is metal.  Its vibrating, the extra bullet proof plates rattling as everything suddenly tilts.  Med-evac helicopter, Steve notes vaguely, his vision clearing enough for him to realise he’s being turned on his side.  His vision fills with another group of medics beside him, huddled over a man’s motionless body.  They’re applying CPR, the body under their hands jerking under each downward thrust.  The man’s blond hair hangs limply, his lips blue in his pale, scruff-covered face._

_“Danny!”_

_“Commander!  Ow! Damn it, we’re gonna have to knock him out.  Someone grab him, no not there.  Shit, watch your face!”_

_“Danny!”_

_Someone’s wailing, a heart-wrenching, grief-filled sound that drowns the frantic voices around him.  Steve twists to find it but the volume rises as hands grab at him and pull him back down._

_Someone’s pushing on his chest and he’s struggling to breathe.  Steve wants to tell them to stop but it’s impossible, his mind clouding as pain sets in.  He scrambles to get his feet under him again but the heels of his combat boots can’t get purchase on the metal; it’s like trying to walk on black ice._

_On the other side of the helicopter the actions of the medics are becoming more frantic.  They’re doubling their efforts, their expressions grim.  Suddenly a command is spoken and as one they stop, defeat written all over their bodies._

_“No!  Danny!”_

_Steve twists his body, wrenching his arm out, looking for something to hold on to.  He blinks against his blurred vision – he needs to get up, to get over there,_ now _.  They’re giving up on Danny -_ his _Danny - and that’s not acceptable.  He can’t lose the man he loves._

 _He_ can’t _._

_The wailing is high pitched now, so close, but he can’t look for it because it feels like he’s drowning and burning up at the same time.  There’s a vice round his ribs, squeezing out all the air and in its place is pain, a red hot ball of pain. And it’s growing._

_Steve curls into himself, tries to pull his knees to his chest.  There’s moisture on his cheeks and the coolness is a welcome relief.  The burning hot pain is spreading like wildfire, across his shoulders and the back of his neck.  Someone’s tilting his head back, fingers are stroking  his cheeks.  Danny’s gone and it hurts so fucking much…_

Steve comes awake with a start, his body jack-knifing upright in bed.  There’s no air going into his lungs and his body struggles to compensate, his heartbeat launching skywards.

Something touching his face makes him jerk backwards.  He jerks again as Danny’s face looms out of the half-light beside him, his expression wary, his body tense. 

Steve reverses up the bed until the headboard is digging into his shoulders.  _Different headboard_.  _Different bedroom_.  They’re in Maui.  In the cottage.  It’s not Oahu. 

“Steve?  You with me, babe?”

He reaches out, his hand scrabbling across the unfamiliar fabric of the bed cover.  His fingers entwine with Danny’s.  He holds on, tight.

“Gimme a second.  I’m just gonna get your inhaler—”

Steve squeezes tighter, ignoring Danny’s indrawn breath.  The nightmare’s still lingering, threatening to pull him back in.  The lack of air is making him feel dizzy. The room lurches and he closes his eyes as everything starts to spin.

“No, Steven.  No!  We’re not doing this again.”

It’s Steve's turn to wince as the grip on his fingers turns vice-like.  It’s enough to get his eyes open, to check on Danny.  Blue eyes stare back at him, wide-eyed and full of fear.  They act like an anchor, giving him something to focus on and pull himself back.  Slowly, inch by inch, his lungs start working again. 

“Better.  That’s better.” Danny smiles at him.  There’s no humour in it at all.

“I thought...”  Steve licks his lips, tries again.  “I thought you were—"  He shudders, the images still fresh.

“Sssh.  Sssh.  I heard you, okay.  I heard you.”  Danny shuffles up next to him on the bed, until they’re touching from shoulder to wrist.  His warmth draws the chill from Steve’s skin.

Steve’s not sure how long they sit there.  His internal clock is shot to hell – all he knows is it’s night-time.  Part of him thinks he should be worried about that, he always knows the time. But he’s just so fucking grateful it was just a nightmare.  He hasn’t lost Danny. 

He feels like he’s been given a second chance.

“I love you.”  Steve blinks in surprise.  The words slipped out so easily.  Danny leans in closer, plants a kiss on his nose.  It’s such a simple gesture but it promises everything.

When Danny tugs at his hand, pulling him out of bed, he goes willingly, the bed cover tucked under his arm.  The wooden floor feels cool under his bare feet, the cover drags across the slats as they head outside. Max is already there, stretched out with his head resting on his front paws.  One of the loungers has a pillow and throw on it and there’s an empty coffee mug on the table.  Tealight candles are dotted across the lanai, bathing it in soft light.

Steve turns to Danny, silently asking questions.  Danny shrugs back as he moves the chairs together.  “I couldn’t sleep.”

Steve goes where he is prodded, stretching out on the lounger when Danny does the same.  He doesn’t even protest when Danny pulls up the cover, trapping them under its weight.

Danny stares out into the darkness, towards the paddock.  Steve wraps his fingers around Danny’s and just breathes.  The dark images start to recede but there’s still a raw, gaping feeling behind his ribs.  Mentally he tries to patch it over.  Memories keep oozing through the edges, more appearing every time he tries to push them back.

Out in the paddock one of the cows calls to the others.  Steve focuses on it, the ordinariness of it, anything to distract him from what’s happening in his head.  Next to him Danny shifts, stills then shifts some more.  The half-light given off the candles emphasises the shadows under his eyes.  He looks _so_ tired.  Steve wants to hug him.  Danny’s posture is telling him not to; his brain flashes back to the waterfall, the moment Danny had been hanging just inches from death.  “You hurting?”

Danny takes a deep, shaky breath, his grip on Steve’s hand tightening.  His eyes stay resolutely forward.  “Okay, take it easy,” Steve soothes, gently disentangling his hand, pushing the covers away.  “Stay there.  Gimme a minute.”

He keeps to his word, sweeping up the pain relief medication from the hospital: a quick glance at his watch shows they’re due a dose.  He detours and retrieves his own medical bag: pain relief is his specialist subject.

Danny’s still sitting like a statue.  Steve knows that posture only too well, the one where you don’t move because you know doing anything more than breathing (hell, breathing too) is going to _hurt_.  With a gentle nudge he persuades Danny to take the pain relief.  When Danny glares he takes the silent hint, swallowing a dose as well. 

Getting Danny to shift over on the lounger takes a little more effort but finally he gets him in the right place.  Grabbing a jar from his medical bag he slips in behind Danny on the lounger, pulling him back so he’s sitting between his legs, his back towards Steve’s chest.

Tiger Balm is his secret weapon.  It’s the mild version – the fumes from the strong stuff plays havoc with his lungs – but it’s still got magical healing properties.  Carefully he pulls Danny’s shirt down off his shoulders.  Dipping his fingers in the jar he rubs the cream in both hands.  It warms his fingers instantly, improving the blood circulation.  “Sssh,” he whispers under his breath as his fingers touch Danny’s skin for the first time.  He can feel how Danny’s body has tensed.

“It’ll help.  I promise.”  He feels Danny take a steadying breath.  He takes that as silent permission to continue, smoothing the cream across the bottom of Danny’s neck.  Rubbing it in using small circles, he can feel the tension in his muscles.  He knows it’s working when Danny groans with appreciation.  Steve dips in the jar and repeats the process on his right shoulder.

Steve’s learnt in the year that he and Danny have been together that Danny is rarely quiet.  It’s still a surprise though when Danny stirs and starts talking; his own brain’s so tired he can barely think.

“That day I found you in the bathroom…that’s what I keep having nightmares about.”

Steve’s blood runs cold.  His hands stop.  “Danny…that’s been months.  You didn’t say anything?”  Danny shifts sideways, just enough so their eyes meet.  Steve feels sick.  Danny looks _wrecked._  

“I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life, Steve. I thought you’d given up.  I thought…I thought you were going to leave me here on my own.”

“I wasn’t leaving.”  Steve’s brain is backfiring.  Danny’s words are piercing him like barbs. _I was tired, babe.  I felt like it would never end._

“I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” Danny continues evenly, shifting again, looking away.  “That night….”  He inhales, deeply, starts again, “That night I stayed at Rachel’s, I was so angry.  All I kept thinking was how I could have lost you.  Rachel…she reminded me how hard she used to find it…the job, the worry…”  His voice trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.  “Suddenly I knew how it felt to be on the receiving end.”

Steve shivers against the sudden premonition of how this conversation is going to go. “We both have dangerous jobs.”  He pulls Danny back towards him, resting his hands on his shoulders again.  “We knew that when we first hooked up.  We’ll figure this out, we always figure things out.”

Danny laughs, a harsh sound deep in his throat.  “That’s what Chin said.”

Steve stills. There are red blotches on Danny’s neck.  They’re finger-shaped, deep impact.  Gently he runs his own fingers over them, rubbing in more Tiger Balm.  “Anyone else you’ve been talking to about us?”

 “I had to talk to someone, Steve.” 

The note of defeat in Danny’s voice nearly undoes him.  He hadn’t realised things had been as bad as this.

Danny sighs, pushing back into Steve’s chest.  “I need you to be safe.” 

Steve huffs.  There’s no such thing. 

“I’m serious.”

Steve runs the conversation back through his mind again, trying to understand what Danny’s saying.  Comprehension hits him like a physical blow.  All he can see is a black hole opening in front of him.  At the bottom of it are the memories that’s he been trying to hide from.  “Are you saying you don’t want me to do my job anymore?”

“Steve…”

Steve shifts so that he can see Danny’s face properly.  There’s a note of determination in Danny’s voice that he’s never heard before.  “Is that what this is all about?”

“I didn’t say that,” Danny replies, raising one hand, wincing as he moves.  “It’s called backup for a reason, okay?  It’s doesn’t have to be you leading the charge all the time.  It doesn’t.  You’re not in the Navy.  You don’t need to do those—”

“I know I’m not in the Navy, Danny.  I’ve got medical discharge papers that prove that.”

“Babe, don’t—”

“Is this about Barber?  Did he say something to you? Because--”

“Just stop, okay--”

“—he’s nothing Danny.  He’s not important.”

“Steve.”  Danny’s fingers rest gently on his lips, subduing his anger.  “I know that right now you believe that.  I get that there’s some things you want to forget.  But your face is telling a different story.  And I can’t….It’s killing me watching you doing this to yourself.”

Steve pulls away from his touch, needing distance.  Danny watches him, unwavering, his eyes soft with concern. A year ago Steve would have just thought Danny was just worried about him. Now he knows better, he can see the pain he’s caused _._ Carefully he pulls the cover round Danny, gently placing it across his shoulders.  He’d do anything to make this man happy, this man who’s given him everything.  But Danny’s asking him to jump into an abyss.

“You gotta let it out, Steve,” Danny’s voice is so low Steve’s straining to hear.  “Whatever it is.  The more you fight it the harder it gets.  You gotta make peace with it.  It takes time.  It’s not easy.  Sometimes you’ll think you’re not gonna make it.  But you will because you’ve got me and Grace and Max looking out for you now.  You understand?”

“Danny…”

“Do you understand?”

Steve swallows against the lump in this throat.  There’re so many thoughts crowding in his head, so many memories jostling to be let out.  Danny’s afraid for him though, actually _afraid._ Swallowing again, he nods his head.

“Just so we’re clear,” Danny says quietly, staring out into the darkness, “I’m not asking for miracles, babe.  I just want you to feel like you can talk to someone if you need to.  Just anyone.  It doesn’t have to be me.”

Steve bites back a reply, settles instead for pulling Danny closer.  Talking to anyone other than Danny sounds like a form of torture.  He can feel the first stirrings of panic building.  The next stage will be hyper-alertness and then he’ll have to move...

“Stop thinking ‘bout how you’re gonna escape,” Danny mutters, his voice muffled by the cover.  “We’re on an island in the middle of the Pacific, you putz.  How far do you think you’re gonna get?”

Steve snorts with laughter despite his dark mood.  He’s pretty sure he could get a long way.  Or maybe not – Danny’s giving him a look that says ‘ _Just try it’_.  Steve tucks the cover closer around them and tries to settle down again.

“Is the Tiger Balm working?” he asks a few minutes later, his brain still too riled up to rest.  

Danny hums under his breath.

“You want me to get the other shoulder?”

Danny doesn’t say anything, just dips his head, giving Steve access.  Steve warms his hands and starts massaging the cream in again.  In the back of his brain he’s still panicking.  Hell, panicking doesn’t even begin to cover it.  But touching Danny’s skin is keeping him anchored, stopping him being swept away in the storm.   As his hands skim over Danny’s body his humming gets louder.  It breaks down the heavy silence between them.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me, Danny.”

“I know that.  It’s okay.”

“No…it’s not.”  Steve takes a stuttering breath, tells himself to concentrate on Danny again.  He hates how much effort it’s taking to say just a few words.  “You’re right.  I keep things to myself.”

Danny’s shoulders curl back into Steve’s fingers, offering silent comfort.  “I’m not asking you to tell me everything.  I just…It’s like…”  He pauses, choosing his words carefully.  “Back at the house, there’s pictures of me and Grace before we met you.  You even told me I should have pictures of Rachel and Grace, for crying out loud.  But there’s nothing of you before you met me.     Every picture that’s in there…it’s been taken by me or Grace.”

“I got pictures.  You didn’t say you wanted pictures.”  Steve falters, aware of how defensive he sounds.  Danny’s face reflects his disbelief.  “I do.  I keep them in the storage unit.  They’re in with my parents stuff.”

Danny’s expression brightens.  “Why didn’t you say so?  When we get back we’ll go collect…Okay,” he huffs sharply, his hands shooting into the air.  “See, there’s that face again.  That’s the one I’m talking about.”

Steve rears back.  “I don’t have a face.”

“You do.”  Danny’s insistent.  Steve’s stomach sinks.  “It’s like that sad emoji Grace always sends me when Rachel’s making her do homework.  You’ve got your head on upside down.”

The muffled ring-tone of a phone interrupts them.  Danny reaches awkwardly under the lounger, cursing under his breath.  When he comes back up he’s got Steve’s phone in his hand.

“Who’s calling this time of night…”  Steve trails off as he registers the indecision on Danny’s face.  “Who is it?”

Danny accepts the call, his eyes downcast.  “Hey Chin.  Thanks for calling.  Yeah, that’s him.”  He pauses, swallows, looks Steve straight in the eye.  “John Barber.  What you got?”

Steve doesn’t hear what else Danny’s saying to Chin – suddenly there’s a loud buzzing noise in his head.  Dread pools in the pit of his stomach.  Eyes fixed on the horizon in front of him, he forces himself to listen to the sound of his own breaths.  Eventually movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention.  Danny’s finished the call.  Phone still in his hand he looks deep in thought.

Steve turns his attention back to the scenery.  “What was that about?”

“You know what that was about.”  Danny sighs, throws the phone on the table.  “I’m a detective, Steve.  I can’t just drop it.”

“I told you he was nothing.  I…” Steve trails off as words fail him, a growing sense of panic taking away his ability to think.  He shakes his head, trying to clear it.  “When did you even call, Chin?  We’ve been together the whole—”

“At the hospital.  While you were being interviewed.  I called him.  Asked him what he could find out about Barber.”

Steve turns, forces himself to meet Danny’s eyes.  The abyss of his memories is opening in front of him again.  “I told you I didn’t want to talk about him.  I _told_ you.”

Danny crosses his arms, bites down on his lip as he moves.  “Chin came up empty anyway.  Turns out you’re not the only one who doesn’t want to talk about him.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.  You said I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to.  You just _said_ that, Danny—”

Danny shuts him down with a stab of his hand.  “What if I do want to talk about him, huh?”

“Excuse me?

Danny raises his chin, holds his gaze squarely.  “What about me?”

“Danny…”

“No.  Nope. Don’t give me that look again.”  Danny’s voice is rising. “Don’t.  I’m worried.  I’m worried, okay.  He was _threatening_ you.  Us.  So I called Chin—"

Steve shakes his head.  The panic’s building.  “That gives you no right to—” 

“It gives me every right!”  Danny swings his feet to the ground.  “We could have died on that goddamn mountain.  Do you get that?  Do you?  Or is this just a normal day for you?”

“It’s okay, Danny.  We made it—”

“We _made_ it?”  Danny gestures to the two of them, then gestures again to include Max.  “Look at us, Steve.  _Look_.”

Steve looks, tastes bile in his throat.  They're both exhausted, their postures showing the injuries they’re carrying.  They’re supposed to be celebrating their anniversary.  He’d planned it.  It was going to make things _right_.  “We can do over the weekend, maybe go to—"

Danny’s expression morphs into disbelief.  “This has got nothing to do with our anniversary.  It’s about you keeping secrets.  Not trusting me.  Not letting me _care_ for you.”

“I know you love me—"

Danny’s hands fly up, regardless of his sore shoulders.  “Then let me look after you.  Why can’t you let me do that, huh?”

Steve sucks in a breath, feels his heart rate rising.  “I’m not…I’m not used to that, Danny.  You _know_ that.”

“But I _need_ to, Steve.  That’s who _I_ am.”  Danny exhales, shakily.  Steve wants to reach out and touch him, so, so much.  “I’ve been here before, babe.  With Rachel.  And I can’t…I can’t do that again.”

“The divorce.”  Steve whispers the words to himself rather to Danny.  Reality hits him like ice cold water.  Shock sucks the air from his lungs.  He watches in silence as Danny walks back inside, Max close behind him.

He’s finally fucked it up.

“Danny!”  He clears his throat, tries again. 

The silence that follows is damning.

In his head there’s a battle being waged.  Instinctively he wants to stay on the lanai, in silence, hidden in the dark.  It’s comfortable, safe, the place he retreats to.  Inside the cottage there’s noise, conflict, the threat of exposure under the bright lights.

Inside the cottage there’s Danny.  Danny, who’s been dragged into Steve’s strange, screwed up life but has never flinched.  Until now.

Steve’s up on his feet and moving because there’s no other option.  His heart might be tearing out of his chest but he’s put more on the line for complete strangers before.  Hell, a few hours before he’d been risking his life for John Barber, a man who would stop at nothing to protect himself.

Steve shakes away the encroaching memories, the remembered humiliation and shame.  A future with Danny is his if he wants it.  And he wants it. So, so bad.

There’s just one light on in the cottage, in the kitchen.  It’s throwing long shadows across the room.  Max is on guard duty by the doorway.  Danny’s curled up on the bed, his back turned towards the door – towards Steve.

Max glares at him, then pads outside, his head down.  Steve takes the empty side of the bed, shuffling up to sit against the headboard.  Danny’s awake; his breathing’s fast, hitching slightly on each inhale.  Steve clenches his hands, resisting the urge to touch.  There’s a gap between them - an invisible line – which he feels he can’t cross.

The room is too quiet.

Steve clears his throat.  The ragged sound seems unnaturally loud in the silence.

“Afghanistan.  The first couple of weeks after the attack.  I still can’t really remember them.  Some of the stuff they had me on…”  He grimaces.  “But Billy…he says…the first thing I asked was; ‘How’s the team?’  There were five us on that patrol.  We all made it back.  Maybe we weren’t all in one piece but we made it.”  He sucks in a breath, the memory suddenly vivid.  “That was a good day, Danny.”

Danny shifts onto his back.  A hand searches his out, fingers twisting together. 

Steve tightens the grip.  Relief courses through him.  “I know that doesn’t make sense.  It’s different out there…we were at war, Danny.  Every day someone’s trying to kill you…getting the job done and surviving is all you’re thinking about.  It’s all you’ve got time for.  You survive and you move on.  Tremaine.  Gonzales.  _Barber_.  That’s what I was doing.  I don’t _know_ how to do it any other way.”

He doesn’t realise he’s breathing hard until Danny unhooks his hand to rest it on his chest.  “I get that…but I need you to look after yourself.  I’m all in here, okay?  You and me.  And…I never…I never thought I’d do that again.  Not for anyone.”

Steve swallows hard against the emotion in Danny’s voice.  Danny’s risking everything.  He has to as well.  “I’ll call Tripler when we get back.” 

Danny’s sudden indrawn breath speaks volumes.

“I never…thought about the future.  I always thought I’d never…”  Steve sighs, words failing him.  “They’ve got good people.  I’ll talk to them.”

“Steve.”

The hope in Danny’s voice makes Steve nod his head.  He’s sealing a promise – for both of them.  “I can do that.”

He turns his head, his eyes meeting Danny’s.  Rolling over he leans in for a kiss, then hesitates, looking for permission to cross that invisible line.  But Danny’s ahead of him, cupping his hand around Steve’s neck and pulling him in, strong and reassuring.

They pull apart, just their foreheads touching.  Carefully Danny reaches out, resting his hand on Steve’s chest.  His fingers slide lower, sliding under Steve’s tee-shirt, skirting over the bruises on his ribs.  “I thought he was going to kill you,” he murmurs, the pads of his fingers rubbing gently.

Steve breathes in deeply, closes his eyes against the images that flash into his mind. “When I got to the waterfall…I thought it was too late.”  Confessing feels like failure.  Back in the teams he would never have left Danny exposed like that.  He keeps his eyes closed as Danny’s fingers drift across his ribs.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said next time we’re going to Disney World.”  Danny’s breathing is uneven, harsh, the words catching in his throat.

Steve opens his eyes.  Danny’s staring at him, in the dim light his eyes look red-rimmed.  They kiss again, more desperate, hands reaching out with gentle touches.  Danny pulls away first, shifts so their bodies are touching from shoulder to toes.  “Rollercoasters and the carousel,” he breathes, his fingers brushing over the bruise on Steve’s temple.  “Hotdogs and stupid hats.”

Steve hums his agreement, his eyes drifting closed again. Right now he’d have his picture taken with Goofy and Donald Duck if it made Danny happy, if it proved to him just how much he is _loved_.

Through touch alone Steve wraps his arms around Danny, then shifts as Danny wraps his arms around him.  He hooks his leg over Danny’s hip, tucks Danny’s head under his chin and just _holds on_.  Danny sighs, his whole body going limp as he relaxes.  Steve’s heart does a strange little flip behind his ribs.

There’s the skittering sounds of claws on the wooden floor then a heavy weight hits them, in the legs.  Max is incredibly heavy.  But they’re both used to their sleeping companion.  Everyone shuffles again, Max grumbles, but eventually they settle, woven together in a warm muddle of affection.

Steve listens to the sound of Danny breathing as he falls asleep.  It’s overlaid with the sound of Max’s snores.  His instincts are still telling him to keep watch but the panic and the nightmare have faded.  In their place is a feeling of wellbeing, of warmth, of being wanted. 

For the first time in a long time he starts to feel calm.

H50H50H50H50

“Hey, babe.  I’m home.”  Danny closes the front door behind him, throws his car keys on the coffee table.  Frowning, he walks through to the kitchen.  The house is suspiciously quiet.  It’s Friday night and he and Steve are due to pick up Grace in an hour.  Max hasn’t come to greet him either.

Steve’s truck is parked out front: he peers through the kitchen window to check he hadn’t imagined that.

“In here!”

Danny lets out the breath he’s been holding.  Shaking his head he follows Steve’s voice to the bedroom.  “Where’s Maximillian?  We gotta collect Gracie in an hour.  I thought you were…”

He comes to a halt in the bedroom doorway.  Steve’s sitting on the bedroom floor, a brown, battered old suitcase open beside him.  When he looks up his expression is pensive.  Danny’s stomach rolls.  “You okay?  What’s going on?”

Steve rubs his nose with the back of his hand.  It’s a sign of nerves that Danny’s familiar with – they’ve had several conversations like this in the month since their trip to Maui. 

“Billy offered to look after Max for a couple of hours.  Rachel knows we’re gonna be running late.”  Steve rubs his nose again.  “I…um…I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Danny nods, surveys the room again.  “Okay,” he says, thinking the opposite.  Rachel would have wanted an explanation.  Right now that probably means she knows more than him. 

His thoughts must be showing on his face.  Steve shifts over, making space for him on the floor.  “I’m sorry, okay?” he says, quietly.  “I know I should have called you.  Just hear me out.”

Danny pushes off the doorframe, steps over the suitcase.  He leans on Steve’s shoulder to help him to get to the floor.  The muscles under his hand are tense.  He squeezes gently, rewarded when Steve leans back into him.

“I saw the counselor again today.”

Danny’s relieved at the news – and surprised.  The first appointment had been two weeks previously.  Afterwards, Steve had withdrawn into himself for a few days.  Danny hadn’t pushed for a second appointment.  It had to be Steve’s decision, he knew that.  But he’d laid awake at night _hoping_.

The weight that Danny’s been carrying on his shoulders since the accident lessens just a little bit.  It’s another step navigated in their relationship.  Steps that are taking them both to a good place.

Steve leans further into him, rests a hand on his thigh.  “We talked about you.”  The fond look he throws at Danny makes his heart skip a beat.  “I told her what you said about the photos.”

“You did?”

“Hmm.  She thought it was a good idea.”

“Of course it is, babe.  I thought of it,” Danny shoots back, distracted as the open suitcase draws his attention.  He peers into it.  “Are those the photos you were talking about?” Gradually the pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.  “So, what...after the appointment you went straight to the storage unit and got them?”

Steve shrugs, a hint of embarrassment in his face. 

“You know she meant you could think about it, right? Maybe think about it, sleep on it.”

Steve huffs impatiently.

“Let me guess,” Danny pushes, softening his words with an encouraging smile, “you figured you’d just get it over with, rip it off like a band aid?”

Steve chuckles.  It’s a nervous sound.  “Something like that.  You want to see them.  And the counselor…she thought maybe it would be easier to talk about the photos than to talk about…me.”

Danny makes a mental note to thank the counselor one day.  There’s logic behind that suggestion; Steve adores logic.  “Sounds like a plan, babe.”

Lips pursed, Steve puffs out his cheeks.  He pulls out the photos, shuffles them into one very neat pile.  Flicking them over, he studies them for a long moment.  Then slowly, deliberately, he takes one out of the pack.  “Afghanistan, a few weeks before the attack,” he says, studying it.  “We had an embedded photographer with us.  A real nut job.  He couldn’t wait to get to the front line.”

Danny takes it when its offered, not sure what he’s going to see.  He feels his pulse rate quicken as his eyes take in the image, his brain a split second behind.

It’s a picture of Steve and Max.  They’re sitting on the ground, next to an armoured personnel carrier.  Steve’s got his back against one of its huge wheels.  Max is stretched out in the shade beside him, his head resting on Steve’s leg.  The scars on his back are missing although his coat looks like it’s been clipped.

Steve’s wearing beige-coloured boots, camouflage pants and a vest. He blends into his surroundings: the vehicle and the dirt are beige too.  His tanned skin is slightly darker, the sunlight throwing shadows across his bare skin that emphasise how lean and muscled his body is.  Heavy scuff obscures his chin, his hair is much longer too, curling at the ends.  He’s squinting up into the sunlight, at the photographer, a cigarette hanging from his lip.

It’s Steve but not _his_ Steve.  This version is like the Steve on the mountain, but harder, his eyebrows drawn together in a piercing frown.  His Steve is fit, they work out together.  This Steve’s got a body that’s been trained to endure anything thrown at it.

“We’d just come back from ten days up-range. All I wanted was food and sleep, in that order.  Then this idiot turns up with his camera.  Danny?”

Danny blinks, pulls himself back from the image.  He nods, to show he’s heard.  So many questions are swimming around in his head. Instead, he just says, “Oh.”

Taking the photo back, Steve puts it to the bottom of the pile.  He sighs, before taking another one out.  He keeps hold of it, image-side down.  Danny waits, until finally Steve hands it over.

Danny’s stomach flips painfully, his heart feels like it’s being wrenched out of his chest.  He doesn’t need Steve to tell him the second picture was taken after the attack in Afghanistan.  It’s clear what Steve’s body has endured.  He takes Steve’s hand, pulls him closer.  “This was taken outside your trailer on the encampment?”

Steve clears his throat.  “Seven, eight months after the attack.  I’d been back in Hawaii about half that time.”

Danny peers at the picture again.  “Is that Billy sitting next to you?”

Steve doesn’t answer.  His eyes are still fixed on the picture.  Danny’s eyes follow his and his heart sinks again.  The Steve in this picture is thinner.  _Frail_ , he thinks, as his mind shies away from the brutal reality of the attack in Afghanistan.  Steve’s pale, his head shaved.  The scarred skin on his head and neck is red, raw and angry.  Danny’s felt the scars under his hair but he’s never actually seen them exposed like that.  Suddenly he feels sick.

Steve rouses, sticks his hand out.  When Danny gives him the picture back, he stares at it like he’s looking for answers.  His shoulders slump so Danny leans into him, shoring his body up.

“When they medically retired me from the Navy I didn’t know where to go.  Mom and Dad were gone but I figured…I figured Hawaii was good a place as any to go.”

“You had friends here?”

Danny blinks against a pang of sadness as Steve shakes his head.  “Not really.  Everyone else had moved on.  And coming back…as a civilian—"

“It wasn’t something you’d ever planned.”

Steve half-smiles at him gratefully.  “Yeah.  For a while there I was just surviving…taking it day by day.  Then one day I figured I needed to start doing something so I looked for work.”

“Security work?” Danny exhales, already knowing where this is going.  “You took a job with John Barber.”

Steve nods, leaning in more.  “He came to the encampment.  Offered me a job.  He said it was about time I got my life together.” Steve meets his eyes, his expression intense.  “I couldn’t argue with him, Danny.  He was _right._ I was a mess.”

 _You were injured, mentally and physically.  The bastard should never have said that._ “How long did you work for him?”

“Five weeks, maybe six.”  Steve shrugs, a whole body shrug, brimming with regret.  “But…it felt good to be doing something, you know?  I just wanted…I understood those guys, the rules they played by…or at least I thought I did.”

Danny nods, nudges Steve gently when he goes quiet again.  “And?  What happened?”

“I knew pretty quickly something was wrong.  Jeff, the guy in charge of our security detail, kept disappearing.  ‘Coffee breaks with his buddies’ he said.  I’d never seen a guy so addicted to caffeine.”

“Sounds like some of the guys in the squad room.” 

“Yeah.”  Steve scrubs at his face.  When he lowers his hand he looks exhausted.  “Yeah.  So, our client was this hot-shot financial dealer.  He’d flown in from New York.  Jeff’s coffee drinking buddy worked for a rival firm.”

“Insider trading?”

“Money laundering.”

“You sure?”

“I followed Jeff.”  Steve exhales, inhales sharply.  “He was so sure of himself he didn’t notice me sitting two booths down from him when he met his contact.  I stuck out like a sore thumb back then – even with a baseball cap on.  He still didn’t notice me.  Asshole.”

“You told someone, right?”

Steve pulls his hand out of Danny’s grip.  Regret is written across his face.  “I confronted Jeff straight after.  He spun me this story about his meetings being legitimate.  He said Barber had arranged everything.”

“And you were _okay_ with that?”

“There was stuff going on, Danny.”

“Didn’t that sound _wrong_ to you?”

“Of course it did!”

“Money laundering, Steve.  You _know_ what they do with that money.  Sex-trafficking, drug smuggling—"

“I _needed_ them, okay?”  Steve pushes himself to his feet, walks over to look out of the window, the picture still clutched in his hand.  “I didn’t know what to do without them—”

“You could have—"

“The Navy was everything, Danny.  Everything.  Then I get here and…there’s nothing.  I had no reason to get up each day.” Steve sighs, glances back.  The shame and desolation on his face pushes Danny to his feet.  “I’m not proud of what happened, okay?  I know I should have done something back then, told someone but…”

Danny wraps an arm around Steve’s waist.  As a police officer he’s conflicted, he can’t deny that.  But the Steve he knows wouldn’t have done that unless he was desperate.  “So what happened?”

“I kept telling myself that Jeff was lying, that he was working alone, that it was a low-level scam.  Then…I couldn’t do it anymore.  I confronted Barber, told him what I’d seen.”

Danny sucks in a breath.  “How’d he take it?”

“I was stupid.  I wasn’t thinking…there was still stuff going on…”  Steve taps the side of his head.  He snorts, brittle and tired.  ”I thought I was playing by the old rules, that I was back in the Navy.”

“He denied it?”

Steve nods tiredly.  “Barber was horrified.  He couldn’t believe that someone on his team would do something like that behind his back.  He said the guy would be fired the next day.”

Danny scowls, dread pooling in his stomach.  “And?”

Steve’s lips twist in a bitter grin.  “Next day they called, told me they had to let me go.  Not enough work to keep me on.”

Danny studies Steve’s face, struggling to read the expression there.  “That’s not the end of the world, babe.”

Steve shrugs but it’s shaky.  He’s looking at the floor.  “I know.  I figured what the hell, I didn’t need them anyway.  That was until I tried to get another job.  That’s when I really found out how Barber operated.”

Danny frowns, not understanding at first.  “Rumours, Danny.”  Steve rubs the back of his neck, looks down at the picture again.  “Nobody’s going to employ you if they’ve heard you’re not trustworthy, if you can’t follow orders.  And Barber said I’d never get work as a bodyguard.  You gotta…you know…”

Danny grits his teeth, tightens his hold around Steve’s waist.  “No, I don’t know.  Enlighten me.”

“Danny.”

What did Barber _say_?”

There’s a pause.  Finally Steve raises his head, meets Danny’s gaze.  “He said there was no way in hell anyone was going to employ me as a personal bodyguard when I looked like something out of a horror movie.”

Danny slaps the wall so hard his palm stings.  “We nearly died saving that sonofa—”

“Hey.  Hey.”

Strong arms wrap around him.  He returns the hug, breathing in the soothing scent that is Steve.  “Don’t tell me it’s okay.  _Don’t_. It’s most definitely not okay.  The bastard took advantage of your situation.  He _used_ you.  You do get that, right?”

“I didn’t.”  Steve’s voice is muffled against his shoulder.  “I’m starting to understand now.”

Danny wraps his arms tighter, runs a soothing hand down Steve’s back.

“You asked about Billy.  He…it was kind of an unplanned visit.  After Barber, I went off the grid for a few weeks.”

“Off the grid?”  Danny frowns as he chews over that statement.  “So, you shut yourself in your trailer?  Or are we talking the full mud-covered Rambo off the grid?”

Steve winces, telling Danny more than any words.  “I needed…it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Steve.”

“Billy had just separated from the Navy.  He came looking for me.  Helped me get a few things straight.  This picture, it was taken a few weeks later.”  Steve pulls away, tilts the photo so Danny can see it again.  “It was the night I decided we should start the company.  I figured if Barber could do it, so could we.”

Danny claims Steve’s hand as he processes the new information.  “So…let me get this straight, just so I’m clear.  You survived a horrific attack in Afghanistan, you go through rehabilitation, come back to an island where you know no one, come up against a bastard like Barber then you set up your own company.”

Steve’s peering at him sideways, like he’s waiting for the punchline.  “Yeah.” 

“A company that employs what, ten, eleven veterans like you?”

“Twelve now.  Got a new guy starting Monday.”  There’s a hint of pride in Steve’s voice.

“You could have given up.  At any point you could have given up.”

Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle, confusion written across his face.  “That’s not an option, Danny.” 

Danny rubs at Steve’s knuckles, trying to ease away the tension he can feel there.  “What you’ve achieved, it’s amazing.  Yes, it is,” he insists, when Steve shakes his head.  “Just keep that thought in that dopey head of yours.  One day you’re gonna figure out I’m right.”

Steve chuckles again and this time there’s warmth in it.  “Whatever you say, Danny.” 

Danny hums happily into the kiss that follows.  The anger about Barber is still simmering under his skin but he reins it in.  Barber’s under lock and key on Oahu, being kept in a safehouse.  Both the DEA and FBI know it’s too dangerous to take him back to the mainland. It’ll take time but eventually Barber will be in prison, his life and his business in ruins.

_It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy._

Steve sighs, breaks the kiss reluctantly.  “We’ve gotta go pick up Gracie.”

Danny loves his daughter above everything else.  But he’s still wearing a rueful grin as he pulls away.  They’ve got an evening of Disney movies and pizza ahead of them.  Anything else is going to have to wait.

Steve hunkers down beside the suitcase, the picture of him and Billy sitting outside his trailer still in his hand.  When he slots it back in the stack of photos, Danny’s heart sinks.  It feels like he’s never going to see the suitcase and its contents again.

“You wanted pictures.”

Steve’s voice drags Danny out of his thoughts.  Steve’s watching him, wearing a barely-there smile, full of doubt.  He’s still got the stack in his hand but two photos are fanned out on top.

Danny squats down next to Steve, nudges his shoulder as he takes the first picture.  He steels himself, not sure what he’ll see this time.  But seconds later he’s grinning from ear-to-ear.

It’s Steve and Max.  They’re still in Afghanistan: there are tents and a helicopter in the background and Steve’s still dressed in combat fatigues.  But in this picture the mood’s very different.  Max is playing his favourite game - the photographer’s caught him mid-leap, his jaws open wide as he catches a tennis ball.  Steve’s laughing, head back, arms raised, his affection for his K9 partner clear.

“Grace will love it,” Danny says, meeting Steve’s eyes.  Grace’s too young to be told everything.  But she wants to know more about her puppy’s life before she met him – and Steve’s. 

Danny takes the last picture.  He whistles under his breath.  It needs no explanation.  Steve looks fucking _hot_ in his Navy blues.

Steve rolls his eyes at him.  “What is it with you and dark suits, huh?”

 _If we had more time I’d show you_ , Danny thinks.  He’d also explore the way Steve’s blushing right now. 

He studies the picture again, sobering up as he takes in the details.  “That’s a lot of medals.”  _A hell of a lot of sacrifice behind those pretty coloured ribbons._

Steve nods but he’s distracted, his attention back on the suitcase.  Danny follows his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he sees what else is inside.

There are Steve’s photos, along with some well-read books and a pack of playing cards.  In one corner there’s a stack of precisely folded tee-shirts – the top one is blue with a Navy SEAL badge printed on the front.  A faded pair of track pants and a selection of baseball caps take up another corner.  But the object that really draws Danny’s attention is a polished, dark-wood box.  It’s got an embossed, gold, Navy insignia on the lid.

“It’s okay,”  Steve’s scratching at forehead with his thumbnail.  He conjures up a weak smile.  “Go ahead.”

Carefully Danny pulls out the box, resting it on the floor between them.  He flicks it open.  Inside are the actual medals, pinned carefully side-by-side.  Danny’s not an expert on naval awards but in a place like Hawaii it pays to know what you’re looking at – and he’s pretty sure that’s a Silver Star in there.  He sucks in a breath, then another one.

“ _Jesus,_ babe.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, full of doubt.  “I can’t tell you about those.  I know what I said, that I’d tell you about some of the—"

“I know.”  Danny stops him with a squeeze of his hand.  “There’s gonna be things you can’t talk about.”  He licks his lips; they’re suddenly dry.  “But if you want we could display them somewhere.  With the photos, maybe?”

Steve hesitates, runs his fingertips over the medals.  His jaw is tight, his lips are clamped in a thin white line.  His nostrils flare as he snaps the box closed. 

Danny’s sure it’s going back in the suitcase.  Disappointment curls down his spine.  Then Steve gets to his feet, stuffing the box under his arm.

Danny resists the urge to jump up and kiss him.  Instead he gives them both a moment, zips up the suitcase and slides it under the bed. 

Silently he promises himself the contents won’t be hidden for so long this time.  _One step at a time,_ he reminds himself.  It’s all part of the growing pains.

When he looks up Steve’s watching him from the doorway.  There’s a crease of worry between his eyebrows.  Danny’s breath catches: he knows that’s for him.  There’s determination there too though - the same determination that got them off that mountain.

Steve nods.   It’s almost imperceptible.  But the promise is clear.  _No more secrets._

Danny sidles up beside him, stretches up for one more kiss.  “I love you, babe,” he tells Steve, his heart impossibly full.  “Let’s go get the kids.”


	7. Epilogue

 

**Six months later**

Grace _loves_ Disney World.  Her gasp of excitement at seeing the Magic Castle for the first time is a memory that Danny will cherish forever.

He just wishes the damn place wasn’t so big.  Or so _busy._

He stretches his arms along the back of the bench he’s sitting on and glares at anyone who eyes the empty seats beside him.  They’ve been on their feet for three hours straight, going from ride to ride in a whirlwind of happy screams and constant chatter.  He’s _earned_ the space on this bench.

Grace and Steve are buying ice creams.  Danny chuckles as he watches them waiting in line.  Steve’s got his head bowed, listening to Grace talking.  She’s pointing at the map in Steve’s hand. 

Danny’s not ashamed to admit he’d had his doubts the night before when Steve had planned out their route around the park.  Disney World – in his mind – was supposed to be fun and spontaneous, not run like a military operation.

He knows better now.

Steve’s expertly steered them from ride to ride, making sure they take in everything Grace wants to see without walking unnecessary distances.  Grace seems oblivious, she’s just _so_ excited to be there.

Danny shakes his head as they head back towards him, huge ice creams in their hands.  Each cone is loaded with cream and colorful candy.  Danny feels a sugar-rush coming on just from looking at it.

Steve just shrugs as he sits beside him, sliding up so they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.  It had been clear within five minutes of arriving that healthy eating was off the menu for the day.  To Danny’s surprise Steve’s embraced the new regime with enthusiasm.

Danny tucks into his own ice cream.  Grudgingly he admits it isn’t bad.  Beside him Steve’s wolfing his down like they hadn’t eaten hot dogs just thirty minutes earlier.

“You’ve missed a bit, babe.”  Danny flicks his thumb along Steve’s bottom lip, mopping up a blob of cream.  Steve squirms away, protesting.   Danny grins at the pink flush on his neck. 

“You’re a menace,” Steve mutters, throwing a glance at Grace who’s sitting beside him.  She’s too busy waving at the life-sized Disney characters that are walking by to notice they’re behaving like horny teenagers. 

Danny takes a mouthful of his ice cream then licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue almost touching his nose.  When Steve puckers up his lips to make kissing sounds it’s enough to start them both laughing, deep belly laughs that attract smiles from passers-by.

“Can we go get photos now?” Grace asks, hopping down from her seat.  The ice cream is already a distant memory.  She’s ready to move on to the next thing.

Danny considers the question.  “ _More_ photos?” he asks, eyebrows raised.  Their phones are groaning under the strain of the number of pictures they’ve taken. 

“With the characters,” Steve explains around his last mouthful of cone.  “You know, the guys in the costumes.”

“Moana,” Grace elaborates, grabbing Danny’s hand with both of hers and tugging him to his feet.  “Come on!”

Danny does as he’s told.  He adds a theatrical groan as they start walking again but they all know it’s for show.  Grace is happy.  Therefore he is happy too.

He slips under Steve’s shoulder as they walk, slides his hand into the back pocket of Steve’s jeans.  Steve hums his assent, looping his arm over Danny’s shoulder and pulling him closer as they fall into a well-practised easy gait.

The last six months haven’t always been easy.  Steve hasn’t regained his previous level of fitness after the pneumonia: that’s been a tough blow to take. Barber’s case is still ongoing: every now and then it still intrudes on their lives.  But the appointments with the counselor are still happening.  Danny’s been to a couple as well.  The suitcase is slowly being emptied, the living room wall is covered with more photographs.  Billy’s donated some photos too. And yeah, maybe the medals haven’t made it out of their box yet but Danny _knows_ they will.  It’s just a matter of time now. 

Steve’s hand gripping his shoulder drags Danny out of his thoughts.  A follow-up nudge gets him looking in the right direction – and he grins, a huge grin from ear to ear.

Grace is posing with Moana, while one of the staff take her photograph.  She’s beaming, just _beaming._ It’s possibly the most beautiful thing Danny’s ever seen.

Looking up at Steve takes his breath away all over again.  The big goof’s blinking madly, like he’s got something in his eye.

“Big softie,” he whispers as he reaches up for a kiss.

It’s only brief because Grace is on the move again, fuelled with sugar and excitement.   Before Danny registers what’s happening Steve’s being dragged away to have his picture taken too.

Danny feels his heart beat quicken.  His anxiety level shoots up.  His opens his mouth to tell Grace to slow down for a second but then Steve glances back over his shoulder.  He’s grinning widely, everything about his body language is yelling _‘I’ve got this’._

And he has, Danny realises a few minutes later, as he looks at the latest picture on his phone.   Steve’s posing with Donald Duck and Goofy.  They’re standing either side of him, kissing him on the cheeks.  Steve’s staring straight into the lens – straight at Danny – and the intensity in Steve’s eyes, it makes his heart flip.

“You like it?” Steve’s watching him closely, a crease between his eyebrows. 

Danny studies his expression, trying to read him.  There’s an underlying current that Danny can’t put his finger on, like something hangs on his reply.  Floundering, he looks down at the picture again.  His heart swells.  He can’t ever remember being in love - _being loved_ \- like this before.

Suddenly he’s being swept up into a bear hug, his face pressed against Steve’s shoulder.  Danny hugs back, squeezing hard because _fuck it_ , he _really_ gets it now.  This is his future, right here.  _Forever._    

He never wants it any other way.

**The End.**

And please give kudos to ThatwasJustaDream for the artwork. [Link to artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/14281929%E2%80%9D)


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